Madison Johns - Agnes Barton 02 - Grannies, Guns and Ghosts

by Madison Johns

  “I’m not so sure I’d want to know,” Martha said. “Of course, if my grave was already dug, I’d be hightailing out of town in a hurry.”

  We then searched through the rest of the cemetery that included lumber shaped stones, many of which were dated in the 1800s. I read another set of stones, “Letterman… I thought this was the Butler descendants.”

  “They might be a Butler,” El said. “What with marriages and all. Like Betty Lou.”

  “Has anyone besides me noticed that most of the Butlers died in pairs, husband and wife,” Martha said.

  I stared at the stones and then said, “Either the Butlers are cursed or they are unlucky as hell.”

  A brisk breeze blew and a tree limb crashed to the ground and we bolted toward the car.

  “True, it’s another thing to check out. I would love to question the maid again, but I’m unsure if I should ask her about the graves.”

  “She might be behind it,” Martha added. “Can we leave now, those empty graves make me nervous.”

  “I second that,” El chimed.

  We made our way back to the car and tore off the grass in our hasty retreat. I raced back to Tawas and we stopped at Kentucky Fried Chicken.

  As we walked toward the counter the young man standing behind it was none other than Sheriff Peterson’s nephew, Clint Peterson. A wicked smile curved on El’s face at the recognition, and I almost pitied the young man who had parked in the handicapped parking spot El and I desperately needed a few days ago at the sheriff’s department.

  Clint’s hair was slicked back and I wondered if it had anything to do with fryer oil.

  “Maybe we should go somewhere else to eat,” I suggested.

  “No way, José.” El tapped the register to get Clint’s attention.

  “Are you ready to order, Ma’am.”

  “Hhmph, Ma’am? Do I look old or something, is that what you’re saying?” She looked around as if certain he was talking about someone else.

  “You are kinda old,” Clint sneered, then rolled his eyes in a show of recognition.

  “You’re asking to get yourself slapped. First you park in handicapped spaces and next you have the audacity to call me old.” El stomped her foot in mock-outrage. “Just order, there is a line forming,” I whispered.

  “Yes, and everyone can hear you,” Martha added.

  El leaned forward and gripped the cash register. “I’d like an eight piece meal with three pops.”

  “You mean sodas?”

  “Are you deaf boy, or do you live out of state? Here in Michigan we call it pop and I want Pepsis.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you say that to begin with?”

  “Why didn’t you ask? Duh?” She smiled as he shifted under her inspection.

  “Would you like a ten piece meal for three dollars more?”

  “Did I ask for a ten piece meal?” She looked around the room. “Anyone hear me ask for a ten piece meal?”

  Nobody dared to utter a word.

  “I’m just trying to do what my boss tells me to.” He looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, his boss was watching the situation unfold from a distance.

  “Just give me my meal and make it snappy would you, I’m hungry.”

  Clint’s eyes narrowed, “Whatever the customer wants.” He went off and literally threw the chicken in the bucket, slammed potatoes into containers, most of which dangled off the sides. He grabbed the coleslaw and three Pepsis and sat them precariously on the tray shoved the plates in between the cups.

  “Did you ask what sides I wanted? I don’t think so. I hate coleslaw and those potatoes look a mess. I want new potatoes in the containers like it’s supposed to be, and you forgot my biscuits.”

  “Do what she says, Clint,” the manager ordered him. “The customer is always right.”

  “Whoever came up with that policy never had to wait on one!” Clint shouted. “And I’m not giving this old bat a thing but this.” He flipped us off and dropped his pants, mooning us.

  Gasps filled the air as we ambled outside, yet again without any food. “Eleanor, what on earth possessed you to do that?”

  “He had it coming after parking in our handicapped spot.”

  “You two don’t look handicapped to me,” Martha pointed out. “And who owns a parking spot?”

  “I know, but I have no problem using my cardboard sign if I’m feeling tired. Plus, I do have an official one from the doctor I’ll have you know.”

  “You probably just got that poor boy fired and his boss is gonna call Peterson. I hope you know that.” I opened the door and swung behind the wheel.

  “Since when do you care what Peterson has to say?” Eleanor asked as she slid into the passenger seat.

  “He’s just a kid, Eleanor. You’re gonna have him hating every senior citizen he meets.”

  “He probably already does.”

  “You don’t know that, plenty of nice and kind younger folks around. Who do you think you are anyway?”

  She twisted the ring on her finger. “You wouldn’t understand because everyone loves Agnes Barton and just laughs at me, ‘Oh there goes crazy old Eleanor again’ they say.” Tears welled to the surface and she took a tissue out and dabbed at them. “I didn’t mean to be like that, but I just couldn’t shut it off once I started.”

  “I know, you’re incorrigible, but we need to make amends somehow.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh gosh I don’t know, perhaps help him raise the funds for his parking violation.”

  “Seriously? I think that is going too far now, Agnes. How can we do that?”

  “There has to be some kind of fundraiser we could do that people would be happy to contribute toward.”

  “The bake sale thing didn’t go very well, maybe we should just sell flowers on US 23.”

  “Now that is just crazy talk, Eleanor, be serious.”

  “We could get him a job at the campground,” Martha suggested.

  “No, that won’t work, he’s related to the sheriff and that won’t do. The county had some lawsuits some years back and they have to watch it.”

  “Robinson’s Manor might need some help. I should call the owner.” I picked up my cell phone and did just that. I smiled when I hung up. “Frances said they need another grounds keeper and would be happy to hire the boy.”

  We arrived at the sheriff’s department and were led inside Peterson’s office. His red-eyed nephew was there and I felt even worse than before.

  “Peterson.” I nodded. “Eleanor has something to say to Clint here.”

  Peterson, fingers entwined, just sat there with a smile on his face. Files were spread across his desk and I tried a quick look, but with a snap of a wrist, he concealed them from view. Figures.

  I nudged El forward.

  Her eyes shifted as did her feet. “W-Well I’m awful sorry to have caused you any trouble and didn’t mean to get you into trouble at work.”

  “I think we all know I was fired.”

  “Of course, we made some calls and well, Aggie did, and we found you another job.”

  “Not at another fast food joint I hope.”

  “Nope, Robinson’s Manor actually, as a grounds keeper.”

  A grin split across Clint’s face. “Really? That sounds great. I love to be outside.”

  “That will be hard work Clint,” Peterson said. “Thanks ladies. I’m glad to know I didn’t have to hunt you two down.”

  I backed away. “Don’t look at me, it was all El’s doing. She just can’t keep her trap shut sometimes.”

  El’s face twisted into a sneer but before she could say a word, Peterson said it for her. “I think you both have issues in that department,” and then looking at Clint. “You better get over to Robinson’s Manor before the owner changes her mind. I’m assuming Frances was the one offering the position. I believe her husband is presently out of town.”

  Clint left with lightning speed, either afraid not to do his uncle’s biddi
ng or eager to begin his job.

  “Robinson’s Manor is having a great fundraiser there tonight. A Clue Game Fundraiser for Dialysis,” I said.

  “Yes, I know. She plans to buy a van to transport patients to dialysis, a great cause since most from our area travel quite a distance for dialysis,” Peterson said.

  “That’s for sure. We were asked to be there tonight as guests. She’s waiving the fee for us.”

  Peterson ginned. “Murder mystery, right up your alley.”

  “It should be fun.” I then frowned. “Was the body ID’ed as Connie Bristol?”

  “Yes, and the coroner is doing an autopsy.”

  “I hope we can figure out who killed her.”

  “That’s if it was a homicide. We’ll have to wait for the coroner’s report before that can be established.”

  “What bull,” I said. “And that will take how long?”

  “A few weeks.”

  El patted my hand, “We need to be patient, Aggie.”

  “Thanks, Peterson. We’ll be in touch,” to which he notably frowned.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I emerged from the bedroom wearing a black evening gown with silver slippers for the Clue fundraiser, earning a whistle from Eleanor. I patted my liberally sprayed hair that I had gotten done in haste on the way home. El also had hers done and the grey pantsuit she wore hugged her curves like a loose-fitting glove. “Wow, El. You’re gonna send Mr. Wilson to the emergency room tonight.”

  She blushed and then said, “Do you really think so? I’d hate to resort to online dating if he kicked the bucket.”

  Martha on the other hand wore a jungle print catsuit! She had the body to do it too, but I knew I’d be embarrassed to call her my daughter. Sophia had declined my invitation. “Martha, really? Are you planning to pole dance tonight?”

  “You betcha!” She moved her hips suggestively.

  I threw my hands up in frustration. “You look like a hooker.”

  “And you look like an old bird.”

  I gasped but El broke through my thoughts, “Come on, ladies. Don’t spoil our night out.”

  I was lost in my own little world with thoughts of the recent case. So the maid was on camera at Walmart at the time of the handyman’s death, I mused. Yet Betty Lou and the members of G.A.S.P. were at the Butler Mansion earlier, but that doesn’t mean that they were responsible. Yet that doesn’t make them innocent either. I was torn from my thoughts when I heard a vehicle tear into my drive.

  Andrew arrived with his LX, dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo. He strode to the door with a bouquet of red roses, which he presented to me like in one of those old movies. I blushed feeling quite embarrassed by the whole thing.

  I put them in water threatening Duchess with bodily harm if she dared to knock them to the floor like she did every other time I had flowers in the house. She rolled on her back in response.

  We left with Eleanor riding up front, she just needed a tad more room than I did. Andrew had raised a brow at Martha’s appearance, but like the gem he is, he never said a word.

  When we arrived at Robinson’s Manor they had valet parking. “Frances really has gone all out,” I said as we left the LX.

  “She’s like that,” El said.

  “Evy isn’t coming tonight?” I asked.

  Andrew grinned. “She’s coming with Elsie.”

  I frowned.

  “I don’t have any idea why you care what she thinks. She thinks she’s some kinda social icon around here,” El said.

  I knew she was right, but we had some great times. We all gathered inside and I noticed Betty Lou Butler was dressed in a shimmering green body-hugging gown. We took our places at the table next to hers, and I half wanted to warn her about the open grave with her name on it, but I didn’t. I mean how do you just up and say that kind of thing?

  Elsie and crew were seated nearby too. Mildred was smiling next to goofy-looking Hal Peterson, Sheriff Peterson’s dad. When I turned to look at El she shrugged. “How did you pull that off eh, El?”

  “Well, I just pointed Hal in the right direction and he asked Mildred for a date. From the looks of it they’re hitting it off.”

  “Good job, El.”

  “See, there is somebody for everyone,” Andrew smiled as Mr. Wilson joined us, sitting next to Eleanor who positively beamed.

  “Well, well, Andrew, you’re full of surprises,” Mr. Wilson said.

  “I can be. Wilson was lost without Eleanor,” he whispered in my ear as the first course was served.

  “I have no idea what this is, but it’s delicious.”

  “It’s calamari, sweetheart,” Andrew winked.

  “As long as it doesn’t contain tomatoes, I’m good.” I was assured by Frances that none of the courses contained tomatoes. I couldn’t wait to find out what they had in store for dessert. I wasn’t disappointed and the delicious concoction was just as heavenly. It was a tasty custard with a glazing of sorts atop a light pastry.

  Frances greeted her guests, “I want to thank you one and all for attending and let the game begin.” We were each given numbers as they were pulled from a box. It was so exciting that I had no idea who was coming or going.

  When our numbers finally came up, we walked into the drawing room. We were read the rules and played our parts. Martha was thrilled that she was Miss Scarlet just like she wanted. Eleanor was miffed she was Mrs. Peacock, but she laughed it off soon enough. Strangely enough, Mr. Wilson was Colonel Mustard while Andrew was Professor Plum, and I was Mrs. White. We had fun running room-to-room making accusations with a slew of weapons from pistol to daggers.

  When I walked into the library, all thoughts of the game were forgotten at the still form of Betty Lou Butler lying face down on the carpet, blood staining her lovely green gown.

  Martha shrieked, as did both El and I, clinging to each other like a lifeline. When a crowd began to pack into the room, they quickly dispersed once they spotted the dead body.

  “Is this part of the game?” Mildred asked me.

  “No, dear, that’s a real dead body.”

  “Humph.” She walked away like somebody that had seen a body every day of the week.

  I dialed 911 and reported the crime, suggesting that everyone stay put until the police got here and Frances rushed to the doors and locked them. When the state police arrived, I would be once again face-to-face with Sheriff Peterson.

  Banging on the front door had Frances rushing to let in the law. Peterson walked in with Trooper Sales and once they spotted the body, they both did a double take.

  “I know, right?” I said, grimacing.

  “So unexpected,” El added, shrugging.

  “Sure it was,” Martha mocked.

  While the other guests were questioned, we were in the room with the body and for the moment allowed to stay.

  “Looks like a dagger was the weapon,” Eleanor pointed out. “It’s lying next to the body.”

  “Betty Lou wasn’t even in our group,” I informed them.

  Trooper Sales rubbed his neck. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “I don’t know, we were taking turns and I hadn’t noticed that she was missing at all, until we found her body that is.”

  “Fine time to notice,” Peterson exclaimed. “Did you see her previously?”

  “Yes, she sat one table over from us during dinner. I should have told her to watch herself.”

  “We went to the Butler’s cemetery and we found two graves dug with the names Herman and Betty Lou carved on them,” Eleanor added. “See.” She showed them the pictures on her cell phone.

  Peterson’s face was beet-red now. “Weren’t you just in my office, Agnes? You couldn’t have mentioned it then?”

  I wrung my hands together, “How was I to know something bad would happen to her for sure?”

  “And how exactly did you get into the cemetery, Agnes? The last I recall it’s private with a locked fence,” Peterson said.

  “That�
�s the strange part,” I started. “The lock just fell off,” I shrugged.

  “How convenient,” Peterson said. “And you took it upon yourselves to go onto private property without permission?”

  “I’m doing a community service here. Do you want another body to turn up?”

  “Of course not, Agnes, but it looks like one did. And once again another person you’re investigating turns up dead!”

  “I told her to tell you,” El added.

  I whirled with eyes flashing, “You did not, Eleanor.”

  “You two can quit that routine, I’m on to you,” Peterson said.

  “On to what exactly?” Andrew cut in. “I was with them the whole time and none of us ever had the dagger in our hands. We were playing with plastic weapons.”

  “These two like to change it up to throw me off, but I’m not believing a word either of them say. East Tawas and Tadium would be a whole lot safer with the two of them locked in cold storage.”

  “You mean jail don’t you, Peterson,” I mocked his tone of voice. “That would make you not doing your job so much easier.”

  “I have tried to be nice to you since you saved my life and all, but it’s back on.”

  I shook a finger in his face, “You are the poorest excuse for a sheriff that I have ever known.”

  “Say one more word, Agnes Barton, and the whole lot of you will be locked up.”

  “Under what charges I’d like to know?” Andrew asked.

  “As a lawyer you should know that I can lock anyone up for twenty-four hours.”

  “You do that, Sheriff, and I’ll have a lawsuit on you and the sheriff’s department so fast your head will spin,” Andrew said. “You have no probable cause and you know it.”

  “You might want to listen, Peterson. This county can’t afford to lose any more faith in the sheriff’s department,” I reminded him.

  “Peterson,” Trooper Sales began. “I’m disappointed at this turn in events too, but the guests are being questioned by the deputies and troopers now.”

  “I-I, oh my, this isn’t going to be good for business, and m-my husband is going to be so angry. What if the guests want their money back?”

  “Sales is right, let’s all calm down, no reason to get all worked up,” Peterson said. “We have a dagger that we can check for fingerprints and… hopefully… one of the guest will remember something.”