Thursday Club Mysteries: All 7 stories

by Sheila Hudson

  I must have made a noise because Hattie tapped the wall with her cane.

  “Are you okay Roxy?” she whispered.

  “Yes. Just a bad dream.”

  “It happens,” she said. “Think some happy thoughts and go back to sleep. Tomorrow will be a hum dinger of a funeral. No telling what might happen. Now I’m too revved to sleep.”

  But the ‘revving’ didn’t last long. I heard Hattie’s soft snoring when I turned out the light.

  Scarlett said, “Tomorrow is another day.” But she didn’t have a funeral for a murder victim to contend with.”

  ~10~

  Dressing for a funeral is always a challenge but even more so with a limited wardrobe. The five of us made do with help from Amy and Suzy’s vast array of accessories.

  After morning prayers and breakfast, we filed into the chapel where the body of Brother Ignatius was lying encased in a simple pine box. The body had been freshly washed and prepared. A brother had kept vigil throughout the night. As special visitors, our group sat near the back.

  The funeral mass began with a congregational hymn as a monk entered carrying the processional cross. Then there was the traditional Mass for the dead presided over by the Abbott. He was all in white. He blessed and sprinkled the body with holy water. After another hymn by the congregation, the procession led us to the cemetery. Six of the brothers carried the bier from the church to the cemetery with a Paschal Candle to guide them. The abbey bells chimed while the congregation gathered at the gravesite.

  After the graveside service, the congregation sang the Lord’s Prayer and the Resurrection Song, “And I Will Raise Him Up.” After the burial ended, all were invited to the Abbey’s Guesthouse for coffee and light refreshments.

  I kept an eye on Marcella during the funeral and graveside service. She wore a veil so I couldn’t see her reactions. Occasionally, she lifted the veil and dabbed her face with a tissue. I didn’t see an enormous amount of emotion, but then of course she’d had a couple of days to deal with his death.

  At the Abbey Guesthouse I noticed a tall young man slip his hand through Marcella’s elbow and guide her to a private corner of the room. She leaned over and spoke something to him. He embraced her in a token of comfort. Obviously he was familiar. Maybe a member of the family. I remember the old photo. Was there a son? I can’t remember.

  I attempted to write a note to myself to Google that tidbit when I dropped my pen. While retrieving it I noticed a pair of Crimson Tide tennis shoes on the guy next to Marcella. What are the odds of two pair of those unique shoes being at a Georgia monastery? So this person was also disguised as a monk and poking around the stained glass lab when we were.

  Marcella noticed my glances. OMG here she comes with the stranger in tow.

  “Roxy, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Why yes. Roxy Thibideaux,” I smiled and extended my hand.

  “I’d like you to meet my son, Gary. Gary Gerard. You’ve probably figured out that Brother Ignatius was formerly Nicholas Gerard, my husband and Gary’s father. Gary surprised me today by coming to the service. We haven’t seen each other for some time, so it was a wonderful surprise.”

  “Yes I’m sure it was. Nice to meet you, Gary. So you’ve just arrived today?”

  “Yes only this morning. My plane was late so I missed the earlier part of the service.”

  I was ruminating on this lie while I put on my game face and introduced the Thursday Club girls. We mingled with the monks partaking of their delicious assortment of baked goods.

  When we made it back to our rooms, I made sure no one was within ear shot of what I planned to say.

  “Gary Gerard is the murderer,” I said a little louder than I meant to. “Either that or he is an accomplice to his mother.”

  “How do you know?” Amy asked.

  “His shoes. Remember the Crimson Tide shoes? He’s wearing them today.”

  “We can’t just have someone arrested on suspicion of murder because they wear Alabama shoes. Maybe they could be arrested for bad taste but not murder,” Suzy added.

  Clara, the voice of reason, intervened, “If he was at the workshop where you found the shredded filters and also behind the desk when you visited the infirmary, that makes him suspicious but not a murderer. He had opportunity but what’s the motive?”

  “Well we will know in a few minutes,” Amy said. With that she produced a cup swathed in tissue. “This was Gary’s coffee cup at the reception. I swiped it. Thank God monks don’t use Styrofoam© but the real thing. I got his fingerprints and sent them to AFIS.”

  “When did you have time to do that?” I asked.

  “In the ladies’ room of course,” Amy said.

  “I don’t even want to know the details. Let’s get Kenny and his team looped in on this. We don’t know how long we have before Gary disappears and we are left with nothing. Also if all of this is a match, we have to get the ball rolling on a court order to exhume the other priest who died from similar symptoms. They all have to be tested for lead poisoning.”

  Clara agreed. “My findings show that Brother Theodore died earlier this year and his symptoms were similar to the others. If it’s true Brother Francis needs to be rushed to a facility with capabilities of ridding him of lead poisoning before it reaches toxic levels.”

  “Too bad we weren’t here earlier. We might have prevented the other disasters,” I said.

  I heard a knock at the door. It was Kenny dressed in his civvies.

  “Thank God, it’s you. We were just wondering if you had enough evidence to file a court order to get Brother Theodore’s body exhumed.”

  “I think we may have enough with what I’ve just found – an orange ceramic mug containing remnants of tea and lead salts. It was buried under some garbage in the dumpster. Also the fingerprints you sent match the earlier ones. It is definitely Gary Nicholas Gerard.”

  “Good news, gang. Let’s celebrate.”

  Kenny radioed a member of his team who reported that Gary left the reception shortly after we did. He said a woman in a scooter had also left the Guest House.

  Clara crossed herself and whispered, “God help him if Hattie is on his trail.”

  “Clara, you’re not Catholic. What gives?” I asked.

  “Gary will need all the help he can get. Hattie is armed and dangerous remember?”

  “Yes, but Gary is a two maybe three time murderer and no match for a senior citizen,” Kenny replied.

  A loud crash came from the direction of the greenhouse. Shouts and the sound of breaking glass confirmed our hunch. Several officers arrived as Gary attempted to force a liquid down Hattie’s gullet. She raised her cane and hit him between the legs at the same time spraying his eyes with Mace©.

  “You half-wit. I have shoes older and smarter than you,” she yelled and wheeled to safety.

  “You meddling old fool. Why did you have to get involved?” Gary yelled back.

  Kenny drew his gun. He handcuffed Gary, read him his rights, and it was over. Marcella grabbed Gary around the waist.

  “Get away from me. You are another old fool. I have hated you and Dad ever since he threw me out for being gay. When I ‘came out’ both of you said it was a fad.

  After years of no contact, one day I get the news that Dad had divorced you, got religion, and now is parading as a monk. What a crock! Hypocrites! Both of you. That’s when I decided to move back to Georgia and made you pay for my pain.”

  Marcella crumpled. One of the officers walked her back to the monastery. The rest of us were silent processing what we had just witnessed. What an awful thing to play out - a son is willing to commit multiple murders to get the attention he craved from his parents. That’s something to think about.

  ~11~

  A few days later, the Thursday Club convened at Paulines’. After ordering five Pauline specials, I shared the police report.

  “Gary lived in Barcelona until a year ago when he and his partner, Kareem, opened a tea and spice shop in d
owntown Conyers. Gift boxes of tea began mysteriously arriving at the monastery addressed to Marcella. She didn’t care for the blend so she gave it to Nick/Ignatius. The ceramic mug was also in one of the gift boxes. It is the type of ceramics made in third world countries and contains lead paint. The tea was also analyzed and contained lead salts, which apparently has a sweet taste and why so many have died consuming it.

  I suppose Gary wanted to be sure that the lead salt dosing was effective. With the mug and tea blend, it looks like he wanted to take both of them out. We already know that his fingerprints were on the shredded carbon filters.”

  “Wow that’s a lot to take in. He hated his parents so much that it became an obsession and turned him into a mean sumbitch.” Hattie said.

  “Hattie, please,” Amy said, “a little decorum.”

  “Easy for you to say, he didn’t try to pour poison down your throat,” Hattie said.

  “She has a point Amy,” I said trying to smooth feathers.

  Clara added, “We’ve been through a lot as a group. We should reflect on what valuable lessons we have learned from this episode.”

  “Yeah, don’t trust monks in tennis shoes,” Suzy said.

  “Don’t drink tea that you don’t purchase yourself,” Amy added.

  “Always manage to have a relative in law enforcement,” Clara beamed.

  “No more Korean Spas,” Hattie chimed in.

  With Hattie’s remark, everyone broke out in laughter. Amy spewed her cocoa. Suzy laughed so hard that she dabbed her eyes with her hankie. When the hysteria died down, I told them my news.

  I pulled an envelope from my purse.

  “Dr. Peterson’s office declared the lump I found in my breast is benign. However, I am to follow up with tests and another biopsy.”

  “Praise the Lord,” Hattie shouted.

  “And here’s my news,” Suzy said and flashed an engagement ring.

  “Pauline, desserts all around,” Hattie shouted.

  Everyone seemed to be talking at once. When was the wedding? What were the details about my mammogram and biopsy? So many exciting and wonderful things to look forward to!

  Amy scooted her chair closer to mine, “Why didn’t you tell us about the lump? We could have helped.”

  “No you couldn’t. You’d have just focused on me. Why we might not have even done the monastery trip and look what we’d have missed,” I answered.

  “You are probably right and a killer would have gotten away with two murders and two attempted murders,” she answered.

  Suzy asked. “Since we are analyzing the crime, I never understood why Brother Theodore died. Was he just an innocent bystander?”

  “Yes. Wrong place and wrong time. Kenny said that he thinks Brother Theodore was a test to see how long it took for someone to inhale enough lead fumes to prove fatal. I guess it was too slow for Gary’s taste so he added the tea. Nice touch I mean if you are going to be thorough,” I said.

  The group looked at me like I had transformed into Medusa.

  “I didn’t mean. You know I wouldn’t do. . . “

  “Eat your dessert,” Hattie said. “You’ll need the strength for our next adventure.”

  Every head turned. “And just what would that be?” we said in chorus.

  “Sun, sand, and drinks with little umbrellas. We have to throw a proper bachelorette party for Suzy before the big event. My nephew, the FBI one, has a cute little place in Vegas. Best of all no monks, murders, or smugglers in sight,” Hattie chuckled.

  “Can you guarantee that? Because I’m beginning to think we are a magnet for murder. Maybe three’s a charm and we can celebrate without incident,” I said.

  Who am I kidding? That’s just not possible with the Thursday Club.

  Murder at the Mandalay

  Sheila S. Hudson

  Thursday Club Mystery 4

  Copyright 2016 Take Me Away Books, a division of Winged Publications

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the authors.

  Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  1

  What I needed was Chai, double hot, made with water, and extra spice. What I had was an evening scheduled full of senior citizens gathered for the event of the year at Golden Palms Residency Center. The fete would bring back a number of guests including the Ledbetter sisters, Leona and Blanche. They wouldn’t let such an occasion pass by without checking it out. Even Elvira was excited and there wasn’t even a poker tournament scheduled. Who knew that she was a Bible thumper turned card sharp?

  Hattie was the reason for our festivities. It’s not every day that a person becomes ninety-one years of age. I am not sure this was Hattie’s first time to become that age either, but no one dared to challenge that point. We had spent our morning at Total Image, the salon Hattie still technically owned, but her niece had operated for years being pampered and polished for this auspicious occasion.

  As her official Thursday Club posse, Clara, Amy, Suzy, and I agreed to keep Hattie company while enjoying mani-pedis. Just as we were putting on our shoes, Hattie emerged from the treatment room with her face covered in goo.

  “You look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” Amy chuckled while the rest of us ‘stifled’ ourselves.

  “This stuff is supposed to be a stress relieving Dead Sea mineral mask. I’m not sure whose stress it relieves. You all are the ones laughing while my skin is doing the Mexican Hat Dance. I don’t think I could laugh if I wanted to,” Hattie snapped.

  We averted our eyes to the door where Suzy entered and picked up a copy of Vogue. When she glanced at Hattie, Suzy screamed, “Oh my God. What is that?”

  “A stress relieving mask,” we said in unison.

  “Well it’s causing me stress,” Suzy said, threw down the magazine, and returned to the sauna.

  About an hour later, we were polished, perfumed, massaged, adorned and ready to take on Hattie’s party. Miss Eileen’s Catering had prepared everything to perfection. No doubt. Hattie’s birthday bash would be a total success. But the Thursday Club was also celebrating another event that would shortly take place.

  Suzy and her ex, Tony were getting re-married. With a little bit of counseling and a lot of patience, they had worked through the difficulties from their first marriage and were happily marching back to the altar. No date was set, but I felt sure my husband, Tom, minister of First Church would do the honors.

  In lieu of a bridal shower, Hattie promised a girls’ long weekend in Las Vegas. She hadn’t revealed the details yet, but we expected an announcement as soon as the birthday party concluded.

  When we made our grand entrance, the audience clapped and Hattie blushed the color of her rose beret which matched her Hawaiian flowered caftan.

  “Oh this is so much fuss about nothing,” Hattie protested. She worked the crowd and after a proper amount of eating cake and fellowshipping, Hattie opened her gifts. Her weak protest was just for show. She was enjoying the spotlight and loving every minute of it.

  Clara tore herself away from Derek, the professor she met on the cruise, long enough to ladle the punch. So far Derek had passed the Thursday Club criteria and seemed to be totally in love with Clara. But as official club members, we reserved our right to be leery for the first year.

  My husband, Tom, was holding court in the corner with some of the community leaders including Clara’s nephew, Kenny, who had been recently been promoted to a lieutenant on the local police force. Rumor has it that the deciding factor was the murder investigation at the Monastery of Good Faith.

&nb
sp; I scanned the room for Suzy and Amy Langford but to no avail. When they dropped us off they promised to be right back. It wasn’t like them to be late for an occasion like this.

  Since our retreat to the Monastery of Good Faith, Suzy has been planning what was initially a small intimate wedding. But as things progressed, it has swelled into the biggest anticipated event since the ice storm of 19-seventy-something.

  Details were few and sworn to secrecy. All I could confirm was that Suzy asked me, the minister’s wife, to be a bridesmaid along with Clara, Hattie, and her sister, Amy, who was to be the maid of honor. Amy’s gait had improved so much from her accident that she now walked without a cane.

  Golden Palms had recovered from the smoke damage and the uproar we created when one of the rooms caught on fire, the Langford’s cat died, and Clara was hospitalized. But not in that order. I was afraid the administration would post our pictures on the door and forbid our entrance. But as luck would have it, the administrator left, the herb garden got cemented over, and heightened safety measures were taken against fire.

  The posse mingled and greeted. Did I mention that the birthday cake was in the shape of a hat – a party hat? What else? And because of Golden Palms ‘no alcohol’ policy we washed down that beautiful piece of confection with punch and ginger ale. Hattie made us promise a stronger adult beverage once the party was over.

  Hattie’s nephew, Neal, one of many who adored their aunt saved his gift until last. He presented her a gorgeous package with a note reading “open this in private.” That got more than a few looks from the mostly female population. Gossip ensued as to whether Neal was single, married, gay, or if he was ‘in the market’ at all. Of course, Hattie wasn’t telling and none of us knew.

  When the bluster died down, the party guests left because no one drove after dark. The cleanup crew began and we hustled Hattie into the van formerly known as Scarlett. My husband, Tom, was the designated driver. We rendezvoused with Tony and Derek outside along with another man Hattie invited. Hattie met Howard Saunders on the SS Titanic, I mean the Royal Norwegian. He was the owner and operator of the Somewhere Bar just outside of town. Of course his motto was, ‘it’s always five o’clock Somewhere.’