“Benjamin, you’re here just in time. Did you hear about Clyde’s murder?” No, no, Miss Aggie.
I groaned as Ben tossed an accusing glance in my direction. “Murder? I heard it was an accident.”
“I’m sure it is,” I said, shooting a warning look at Miss Aggie. “We have no evidence to the contrary.”
“Humph.” She wasn’t going to let it be. “Maybe not evi- dence, but I’d say a parrot screaming ‘No, no, get out’ is pretty suspicious.”
“What’s this about, Vickie? I should have known you were up to something when your eyes turned from hazel to green.”
I frowned, but now that Miss Aggie had let the cat out of the bag, I told Ben everything.
“Hmm. That’s not much to base suspicion of murder on.”
“I know. That’s what I tried to tell you.”
“Still, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Whatzit say those words either.” He frowned. “Tell me again what Bob Turner said when he called.”
I repeated the sheriff’s words as closely as I could remember.
“It does almost sound as though he was trying to throw you off the trail, but maybe he was just being thoughtful.”
At my rueful expression, he laughed. “Yeah, thoughtful doesn’t sound like Bob.”
“Not to me anyway. Sometimes I think he hates me.”
“Now, you know he doesn’t hate you.” Dear Miss Georgina, always trying to think the best of everyone.
“He may not hate her, but he doesn’t especially like the way she solves his cases before he does.” Miss Jane had become my champion lately, and it felt good.
I laughed and gave her a hug. “To be fair, Sheriff Turner does a great job of keeping our town fairly crime free. I was just lucky a couple of times.”
“You know what we need?” Miss Georgina’s face was awash with excitement. “We all need to take a trip to Silver Dollar City to get our minds off things.”
“Oh sure, Georgina. We all know your reason for wanting to go to that theme park.” Miss Jane teased her friend relentlessly about the crush she had on the good-looking leader of The Cajun Connection, one of the bands at Silver Dollar City.
Miss Georgina’s face flamed. “Now you stop that. He’s young enough to be my son. I just like his music, is all.”
Relieved to see them moving on to another subject, I thought I’d add my two cents. “I think Silver Dollar City is a great idea. Isn’t the autumn festival going on now?”
“Yes!” Miss Georgina punched the air with her fisted hand.
I sat back and relaxed as friendly laughter rang through the room. We might have our differences sometimes, but these seniors were family to me—all the family I really had since my grandparents went to be with Jesus. A familiar twinge clutched at me. I drew a breath and shoved away the hurtful past. Mom and Dad had never been family to me, and it was doubtful they ever would be.
“Victoria, stop daydreaming.” Miss Jane tossed a ball of yarn at me, which Buster quickly intercepted. “We were just saying it would be nice to have the wedding at Wilderness Church at the park.”
I laughed at her teasing tone. The quaint, rustic church was truly wonderful, and people did get married there. But Miss Jane knew I’d been dreaming of a Pennington House wedding.
I just hoped nothing was going to disrupt that dream.
Chapter Two
“Poor Whatzit,” Miss Aggie said on a sigh as she stepped into my office.
I looked up from my account book. The information needed to be entered into my computer, but who had time with everything going on?
“What’s wrong with Whatzit? Not sick, is he?”
“Oh no, no. He’s healthy enough. But I hate seeing him cooped up in that portable cage. Couldn’t we bring the other one over?”
I tapped my pen on the desk. “Not a bad idea. It gives us an excuse to go to the pet store. If the sheriff doesn’t consider it a crime scene, perhaps he hasn’t searched it. But how do we get in?”
“Oh, I have a key. You know I looked after Whatzit whenever Clyde was out of town.”
How well I knew. Once she’d even managed to sneak the cantankerous parrot into her room overnight. I never did figure out how she kept him from making a sound.
“Okay. Let me finish up here.”
“Good, I’ll ask Martin to go along to help with the cage.”
An hour later, after Martin and Frank had carried the cage out to the van, the four of us spread out around the pet shop.
Someone had obviously been in to care for the animals. The cages were clean, and water and food containers had been filled.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Frowning, Frank scratched his head.
“Anything out of the ordinary,” I said absently as I searched though a supply cabinet.
“But how do we know if something wasn’t ordinary? Clyde wasn’t exactly the most outgoing person, you know.”
“Yeah!” Martin chimed in. “Maybe he was a CIA agent or something.” He snickered sarcastically.
Miss Aggie glared at the men. “If you two aren’t going to help, you might as well leave. Victoria and I can handle this nicely.”
“Naw, we’ll help.” Martin grinned and followed Frank toward the back room.
I headed upstairs. Maybe Clyde’s living quarters would be a more logical place to search.
The small kitchenette-style apartment was dark and dreary. I wished I could raise a window, but if Bob Turner got wind of what we were doing, he’d be furious.
A small corner desk caught my eye, and I felt a surge of excitement. I rummaged through drawers, searching every corner with eyes and fingers. I pounced on a ledger in the center drawer and skimmed through the pages. Nothing. Disappointed, I turned away and approached the four-poster.
“Hey! I found something.” Martin’s shout sent me rushing down the stairs and into the back room, where he stood gazing at a large box.
“What is it?” I managed to gasp out.
“Look, W. C. Fields.” He held the box so I could see inside.
I was going to kill that man. Him and his obsession with the red-nosed actor from the thirties.
“Martin,” I said, as calmly as possible through clenched teeth. “Clyde’s movie collection isn’t what I had in mind.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, a sheepish look on his face. “I just got excited when I saw them.”
Nothing had been found downstairs, so Miss Aggie fol- lowed me up to the living quarters while Frank and Martin went to the van.
“I don’t think we’re going to find anything, Miss Aggie. I’ve pretty much covered the whole apartment.”
She sighed. “It was a long shot.”
“I was just getting ready to check the bed and dresser.” I began to go through dresser drawers.
“Victoria. . .”
I whirled at Miss Aggie’s whisper.
She stood beside the bed with a round, wooden knob from one of the bedposts in one hand. A peculiar look was on her face.
“Did you find something?”
She held out a fragment of paper, and I took it. All that I could make out were the letters n-n-e-l.
“I don’t understand. It’s just a piece of torn paper.”
“I remembered how my friends and I used to hide things in the bedpost knobs when we were children, so I looked inside this one. This fragment must have torn off when someone removed whatever was in there.”
“But what do you think it is?”
“I’m not sure, but the letters could very well be part of the word ‘tunnel.’ ”
“But. . .” I stopped, suddenly realizing what was going through her head. “Do you think this is referring to one of the secret tunnels at Pennington House?” Not so secret anymore.
She looked at me with an ashen face.
“Doesn’t every evil event lead back to my old home?” Her voice sounded strangled. So rare for the self-assured ex- debutante.
I put my arm around her shoulders. “Now Mi
ss Aggie, even if the word is tunnel, it could mean something quite innocent.”
“No.” The word came out hard and insistent. “Clyde Foster was involved in something illegal going on at Pennington. Just as my brother, Forrest, and my husband were. I’ve always suspected it of those two.”
“But, if it’s true, why would someone kill Clyde now? The criminal activity, whatever it was, must have taken place years ago.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the emeralds.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but it did make sense. The Pen- nington emeralds had disappeared years ago and had never been found. Miss Aggie didn’t even know where they had originally come from.
I tucked the fragment in my jeans pocket and took one last look around the room before we left.
When we got back to the lodge, Miss Jane and Miss Georgina had gone to the senior center to play bingo, so we agreed to share our find with them after dinner. Miss Aggie went upstairs to rest, but the aroma of roasting chicken guided my steps to the kitchen. Mabel, our wonderful cook, stood placing sweet potatoes on a baking pan. She’d been with us for a year now, and it was a relief not to worry about meals.
“Ummm, what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
“Chicken and dumplings.” Mabel huffed out a breath. “That’s if people stop parading through the kitchen every five minutes.”
I stared at her. I’d never seen her so testy before.
Noticing my confusion, she wiped her hands on her apron and looked me in the eye. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave. And I can’t even give my two weeks’ notice.”
I groaned. Why couldn’t I keep a cook? “But why? Don’t you like it here?”
“Of course I do.” Suddenly, her face crumpled. She reached up and wiped the corner of her eye. “I like it here better than anyplace I’ve worked, but my granddaughter, Sarah, is coming to live with me.”
“Your granddaughter?” I knew her oldest son had a young daughter, but why would she come to live with Mabel?
“Yeah. Bobby’s wife, Carol, walked out on him and their daughter, Sarah, last week. They ain’t heard hide nor hair of her since. Bobby can’t work and take care of Sarah.”
“She’s not an infant, is she?”
“Nah. She’s ten, but she’s a corker. He don’t dare leave her alone after school.” Mabel took a handkerchief from her apron pocket and wiped her eyes.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear the news.”
She sniffed and turned back to her task. “Anyway, at least you have Jane to help out until you can find someone.”
That was true. Miss Jane was an excellent cook, and she loved it when she could prepare the meals. Still, it wouldn’t be easy to find another good cook like Mabel. We’d all gotten rather spoiled when Corky was cooking for us. Of course we didn’t know at that time that he was practically a master chef. Mabel had filled his shoes nicely.
I knew I should probably think this over, but I wasn’t about to lose Mabel if I could help it. “How about bringing her with you? On school days she can catch the bus here and then get off here after school. The bus stops at the corner. I know. The monsters across the street ride it.”
Mabel’s mouth dropped open, and hope flickered in her eyes. “Are you sure? The girl can be a handful. What about the old people?”
“Oh phooey. What sort of trouble could a ten-year- old girl cause? I’m sure the seniors will love having a child around.” I hoped so anyway. “When is she coming?”
“In a couple of weeks. Bobby figures he needs to keep her until she adjusts a little more to her mama being gone.” Mabel shook her head. “It would be an answer to prayer, if you’re sure.”
“Then it’s settled. I can’t wait to meet Sarah.” Happy and a bit smug to have resolved the matter, I went into my office to work on the accounts.
I sighed as I sat behind my desk. What had I done? The peace and normalcy had been nice while it lasted.
The temperature had been dropping since midafternoon, so I built a small fire in the front parlor. The first of the season. I hoped it would cheer up all of us. Miss Aggie had called Corky and asked him to come over, and I’d contacted Ben. I suspected I might need help in keeping imaginations from running wild. Things were bad enough as it was. Benjamin was extremely level-headed—sometimes he was too level- headed, but that’s what I needed tonight.
The comforting warmth and spicy aroma of tea and cookies should help, too. I breathed a silent thank-you to Mabel, who’d made the cookies before she went home.
Benjamin and I sat on either side of a small table directly across from the corner fireplace. Corky and Phoebe shared a love seat, and the seniors sat on the two sofas. The curtains at the front window were open, and darkness outside gave an eerie feeling to the room. I shivered. Miss Aggie must have had the same feeling because she got up, closed the curtains, and switched on the light.
“All right. Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Straight and to the point. That’s Benjamin. I figured I’d do likewise.
“We went to the pet store today, and while we were there, we found something.” I handed him the fragment.
Benjamin stared at the fragment, a frown creasing his forehead. “Okay, what is it?”
“Here, let me see.” Frank reached over, and Benjamin handed him the piece of paper. As it was passed to Corky and Martin, they each wore the same puzzled expression as Ben.
Georgina looked at the note and gasped, her face going white. She handed it to Miss Jane.
“Tunnels. It’s about the tunnels at Pennington House.” Miss Jane’s voice was filled with excitement.
“Here, let me see that again.” Frank perused the fragment and nodded, handing it to Miss Evalina. “Could be. What do you think, Evie?”
“It’s a possibility.” She frowned. “In fact, I’d say the letters are definitely part of the word ‘tunnel,’ but we shouldn’t assume it to be a reference to Pennington.” She handed the paper to me, and this time I placed it in a small, decorative box on the mantel.
“But it is. I know it is.” Miss Aggie bit her lip and tapped her fingers on the side table.
I could feel myself getting carried away by her agitation. I inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled.
Corky got up and went over to his aunt. He stooped down beside her and took her hand. “Aunt Aggie, don’t you think there’s a possibility you’re building this up in your head a bit?”
I cringed. Bad tactic, Corky.
Miss Aggie jerked her hand from her nephew’s and glared. “I’m not senile yet, Dane Pennington. And I’ll thank you to remember that.”
Corky flinched. “Sorry, Aunt Aggie. Of course I don’t think you’re senile.” He stood and returned to his seat beside Phoebe, who patted his hand and smiled sympathetically.
“No one thinks you’re senile, Miss Aggie.” Benjamin smiled her way. “I’m sure you have good reason for believ- ing Clyde may have been mixed up in shady dealings at Pennington.”
I couldn’t help wondering what that reason could be. I knew Miss Aggie and Clyde were friends, but wouldn’t he have been too young to be involved with Forrest Pennington when he was on the scene?
“Miss Aggie, wouldn’t Clyde have been a boy when the emeralds disappeared?”
She sighed. “A little more than that. He was nineteen, I believe. He had a hero worship of Forrest, who rescued him from a bad situation when he was a small child. Every time my brother came home for a visit, Clyde trailed him like a puppy. I can see how easily he could have been influenced.”
“I see. It does seem suspicious.” I glanced at Benjamin, who was nodding. “Okay, so we need to decide our next step.”
“That’s easy. Take the piece of paper to Bob Turner.” Benjamin looked at me intently, obviously expecting an argument.
Miss Jane beat me to it. “He’ll just laugh at us like he always does.”
Martin snorted. “He didn’t just laugh. He was downright rude to us.”
&nb
sp; “But if the note is evidence. . .” Miss Georgina stopped when Martin frowned at her.
“Maybe it is, and maybe it ain’t.”
I grinned. Anytime Martin began a sentence with that phrase, something else was sure to follow. He didn’t disappoint us.
“Where there’s smoke there’s fire, and I think we need to look for more sparks before we go runnin’ to the sheriff.”
“I agree.” Miss Jane nodded emphatically.
Benjamin shrugged. “Okay, but you know if you withhold evidence you could go to jail.”
“Oh!” Miss Georgina’s face puckered. “We’d better get this to the sheriff right away.”
“Georgina, calm down. If Bob was going to arrest us, he’d have done it long ago.”
Martin could have a point there. Like the time we broke into Corky’s apartment when we thought he was involved in Miss Aggie’s disappearance. Or the time we entered a crime scene with yellow tape warning us off.
“Maybe I’d be safer in jail.” Miss Aggie’s voice trembled and had risen to a shrill tone. “Maybe I’ll just call Bob and tell him to lock me up for a while.”
“Oh, but surely you can’t think you’re in danger.” Miss Aggie wasn’t normally timid, but this wasn’t the first time she’d almost gone to pieces when a death occurred.
“I am a Pennington, you know. Who’s to say I’m not in danger?”
The phone rang, and I excused myself. “Cedar Lodge.”
“Miss Storm?” The female voice was unfamiliar.
“Yes, this is Victoria Storm.”
“My name is Laura Baker. I’m Clyde Foster’s daughter, calling from St. Louis. I understand you’re the person who discovered my father’s body.” She paused, and I heard her breathing heavily.
“Yes, I did. I’m so sorry for your loss, Ms. Baker.” A daughter? This was news to me.
“Yes, well.” She hesitated and then continued. “Would you be willing to meet with me while I’m in Cedar Chapel?”
“Yes, of course. But I’ve told Sheriff Turner all I know.”
“I’m sure you have, but perhaps you’ll think of something more if we talk for a while.” Once more the hesitation. “To be honest, Miss Storm, I’m not entirely certain my father’s death was an accident.”
Rest in Peace, Miss Aggie (The Misadventures of Miss Aggie) Page 2
