by Teresa Trent
I had been so sure it was Karen, but she’d been playing Mother Teresa, giving away gifts to sick children. Who else hated Joe?
That was the problem. Almost no one.
I still had a little time after visiting my dad and Boyle. And I was a little frustrated because I hated the feeling of spinning my wheels. If they weren’t going to investigate Karen’s alibi, then maybe I could look into why she was denied building out on Wildflower Lane. Pecan Bayou being so small, the City Hall shared the same building with the police department. So storming City Hall was only about ten feet from me. I could make a quick visit and still have time.
When I walked into Doogie’s office, he was busy typing on an old IBM Selectric. Did they even make ribbons for that thing anymore? Taking a closer look at Doogie’s setup, I saw there was a computer and a printer behind him. Maybe Doogie preferred to tap away on the old typewriter and used modern conveniences when he was forced to. He pecked away at the keys with his index fingers and stopped abruptly, peering at me through his glasses that rested over his pencil thin mustache.
“Can I help you?” Stacked neatly behind him on a folding table were piles of folders. He had one folder out on his desk and another pile on the floor.
“Maybe. I was curious as to why the city of Pecan Bayou rejected Karen Baldwin’s future building project out on Wildflower Lane.”
Doogie’s head jogged back, emphasizing his Adam’s apple. “Wildflower Lane? You must be mistaken.” He reached to the folders and began leafing through them. Finally, he turned, shaking his head. “I must apologize. You see, I’ve been requested to make a year-end report to the city council in January, and I’m a little snowed under right now. If you would just write down your request,” he reached in his drawer and drew out a pad of yellow sticky notes, “I’ll try to get to it. Right now I can’t recall what we were doing with that, but you can be assured I’ll look into it.”
“Thanks.” Not the immediate answer I wanted, but I felt sorry for the guy. I quickly jotted down Karen’s information alongside my phone number.
“Oh my,” was all the newly appointed director said when Enid sang her solo at the festival practice that night. Enid beamed, thinking the director was paying her a compliment. Ellie McGiver was the daughter of Glory McGiver and the high school choir teacher. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-four or twenty-five, and what she didn’t know was that she had been dropped off in a field full of Christmas landmines. Enid must have been blind too because anyone could see the sour expression on the choir director’s face wasn’t good. She gave Enid a nervous smile. “Well now, we’ll just have to fix that.”
At the words “fix that” Enid’s happy face broke out in red blotches that seeped through her many coats of foundation. “Fix what?”
“Oh, Mrs. Sanford, please understand I wasn’t insulting you. It’s just that some of your tonality …”
“For God’s sake, just say it! She sounds like a frog in heat,” said one of the basses from the back row. Ellie became even more flustered at the outburst. It wasn’t as if she could send one of the basses to the detention hall. “Now, now. Let’s be kind,” she said, attempting to reprimand a man twice her age.
Ruby blurted out, joining her partner-in-crime, “Oh, hell. Everyone knew Joe was losing his hearing. He just chose Enid because she started buttering him up for this part by bringing him casseroles—tuna noodle, lasagna, chicken pot pie—she did it all.”
My aunt was sitting next to Ruby but was choosing not to say anything at all. I was surprised she had decided to return to rehearsals, especially after being accused of murder. Sometimes, though, having friends around in times of trouble was more important than the embarrassment of going out in public.
“That was a simple gesture of friendship,” Enid sulked.
“Yeah right, and this is my natural hair color,” Ruby retorted.
Was Joe losing his hearing? Ruby had just confirmed that everyone else knew about it but Maggie. That would mean that no matter how many warnings Maggie had given Joe as he stood out in the street on the night of his death, he wouldn’t have heard her. Neither would he have heard whoever was behind the snowman. Joe was a sitting duck.
The young conductor once again tried to take control of the situation. “You know, I think this song will sound ever so much stronger if we all sing the solo line. Don’t you agree?”
The members of the choir nodded in total agreement. Enid Sanford began to utter, “But … Joe said—”
“I know, but you see—”
“I see nothing. He gave it to me, and it’s mine. It was his dying wish. Are you going to steal a man’s dying wish? What kind of a monster are you?” Enid’s round cheeks resembled two dots on a nutcracker’s painted face.
Ellie tugged at the hem of her sweater. “Well, if you put it that way—”
“Good. It’s final then. I sing the solo.” Enid turned around and gave the evil eye to the basses. They might have been brave before, but for now, they were choosing their battles.
Maggie rolled her eyes, and the rest of the choir members shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One thing Enid Sanford was good at was locking down something she wanted. I had seen it happen in the garden club, and now she was claiming her territory in the choir. Danny was watching videos on his iPad, sitting in the folding chairs a few rows from us.
Coco was wiggling as I struggled to attach her angel wings. “Hold still, Coco.”
She gave me an exasperated sigh. It was so hard to get good help these days, she must’ve been thinking. “I am holding still.”
Tyler walked by with a stunningly beautiful girl I had to assume was Tiffany. I had seen her around at school events but had never actually spoken to her before. She had her phone in her right hand and looked like she was searching for a good place to take a selfie.
“Hey, Tyler. Who do we have here?”
“Uh. This is Tiffany.” He put a proprietary arm around her then motioned to me. “This is my stepmother, Betsy.” As Tyler made the introductions, Tiffany’s attention slipped from her phone then to me then back to her phone. She put out a hand palm down, and I wondered if she wanted me to kiss her ring.
“Nice to meet you,” she answered in a Texas accent that I was sure would be asking for world peace in a beauty pageant someday.
“And it’s nice to finally meet you.” I shook her hand.
She gave me a quick nod.
Danny, still playing a game on his iPad, yelled out, “I won. I got all the frogs in the lily pond.”
“That’s great!” I said as he turned the screen to show us.
“Great, dude,” Tyler added. I couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable Tiffany was becoming. She had lowered her phone, and her eyes were taking in my cousin.
“We should go,” she whispered.
“But don’t you want to meet—” I called after them.
“Have to go, Betsy,” Tyler interrupted, guiding the beautiful girl toward the door.
“That was Tyler’s girlfriend?” Danny asked.
“Yes. That was Tiffany.”
“Good. Did you know we’re going on a two-couple date?” Danny claimed, his chest puffed out just slightly.
I had been married to a weatherman long enough to tell there was a storm brewing.
Chapter 12
The next morning when I opened the Pecan Bayou Gazette, there was a picture of Karen Baldwin and Joe Nelson standing together at last year’s Halloween Trunk or Treat. Rocky must have searched the database for that one. One thing a small-town newspaper has is lots of pictures of the population. It’s the best subscription incentive they have. The headline read:
Hoarding Mailman Leaves Entire Estate to Neighbor
Underneath the article, Rocky had detailed how the two had been lifelong friends and neighbors. He went on to describe how the two had fallen out in front of half the town at festival practice and how Karen was now mysteriously the beneficiary of his 401k.
As I wa
s packing the kids’ lunches, I put Rocky on speakerphone. It was still a little early for him to be in the newspaper office, but with this kind of story, he would be there to see how the town reacted. Of course, he picked up on the first ring.
“Pecan Bayou Gazette,” he answered crisply. “How can I help you? “
“Just how did you find out about Joe’s will already?”
“And good morning to you, Betsy. Now, you know I can’t reveal my sources, but there is a new paralegal over at Wilson and Pepper. She just moved here from Abilene. Nasty divorce, and she’s on the lookout for her next Mr. Right. I think she might be a little bit sweet on me and, well, a source is a source. Would you believe she actually let me get a look at the will?”
I had no doubt Rocky had used his powers of persuasion on the poor woman. Too bad that new paralegal would be looking for another job when her boss found out she had been the one to reveal the contents of Joe’s will.
As we spoke on the phone, I put out a tray of teacher gifts on the table, wrapped and ready to go. This year we were giving them Dollar Store mugs with hot chocolate mix and candy canes dipped in chocolate. I stopped putting names on these things years ago with the boys having so many teachers. “I still can’t believe that he left his estate to a woman he had an enormous fight with just a few days ago.”
“You have to take into consideration why Karen was mad. The one thing she treasures in life is her daughter. She was mama bear crazy trying to find out about her, and there was the possibility that Joe had been sitting on her letter. If something bad had happened to her daughter, she would have been devastated. Joe must have known that. I guess her daughter had been manipulating her for money to support her habit for years. If he did do it, Joe’s heart was big to the very end. He was doing one final favor for a friend.”
A favor that was not his to give, I thought. If someone else decided to keep my kid away from me, I think I would have had the same reaction.
Rocky’s chair creaked in the background. “I’m headed over to sit in the booth. You know, we’re so close over there I think I’ll do an in-depth interview with Mrs. Baldwin, the town’s newest heir.”
After having her picture splashed across the paper, would Karen even be in her booth today?
“Oh, and one more thing. With all these Feds in town, I was wondering if you heard anything about any letters for Karen? Your daddy must have leaked it out over the supper table like he usually does.”
“No. I haven’t heard a thing. My father is being very closemouthed on this one—probably because the Feds have taken over the entire police station.”
“That just means you need to find out if there really is a letter for Karen in that pile of mail.”
“From what I understand, most of the mail was junk mail.”
Rocky clucked his tongue. “And bless old Joe for that. Junk mail is the bane of my existence.”
I once again reflected on what a kind man Joe Nelson had been. Saving others from the useless and sometimes fraudulent claims of junk mail was the kind of thing he would have done. A great guy. But would a great guy be walking around outside my aunt’s house in the dark of night? Could it be he had tried to find a way to apologize to her for giving the solo to Enid? Had he been lonely and wanting to be more than choir director to Aunt Maggie?
It could explain why he left his estate to Karen. If he had no one else to leave his estate to then he would leave it to his closest friend. Maybe he wanted her to seek treatment for her daughter. Could Joe have been in love with Karen? He was twenty years her senior, but when there is love and close friendship, years might not matter. None of it made sense. Why had Joe been walking around in front of my aunt’s house, or anyone else’s for that matter. And why did it get him killed?
Even though Boyle and my father had told me to stay away from the case, the kids were off to school and I had a little time on my hands. I decided to take a quick swing by Joe Nelson’s house. What could it hurt? It was less about investigating and more about satisfying my own curiosity. In front of the house was a US mail truck. No manager this time. I decided to observe the scene, sitting in my car unobtrusively, but a green beat-up Ford Fusion with a dent in the fender parked in front of me. As if to hide dents and rust, the back was covered with bumper stickers for everything from saving the whales to legalizing pot.
A woman who was my age or maybe a little younger emerged from the car. She wore a wool suit jacket. She pulled on the hem then ran a finger along her neck, looking terribly uncomfortable in the outfit she had chosen. She grabbed her purse and straightened up as she focused in the same direction I was looking. To my surprise, she did not go to Joe’s house but to his neighbor, Karen’s. I could hear the familiar buzzing of the saw. Just as I thought, Karen had skipped being out in public after hitting the front page of the paper. Rocky had said she’d be selling some toys at the Christmas festival. She was probably attempting to replace some stock. The woman in the wool jacket walked over to the garage, and Karen looked up from her work. She shut off the saw and hurried to embrace the other woman. This must be her daughter. She was much shorter than Karen, probably no taller than five feet. I rolled down my window in an attempt to hear what they were saying.
“Michelle, is that you?” Karen said.
“Of course it is,” she answered.
Once again, Karen took the woman in her arms, this time rocking her as if she were a baby.
“I’m just so glad to see you.” She stepped back, extending her arms as if doing a dance. “You look good.” Karen turned her head to the side as she examined her long-lost daughter more thoroughly. “A little too thin, but good.”
“I guess I’ll just have to eat some of your special Christmas pumpkin pie,” Michelle answered quickly.
There was something about Michelle’s answer that didn’t seem completely genuine, but it had been quite a while since she was home with her mother. Maybe the rhythm between the two of them had been lost over the years.
It was wonderful to watch this little reunion, and I was happy for Karen. Finally, her baby girl was home, and just in time for Christmas.
Chapter 13
Once the coroner finished with Joe’s body, per his wishes, he was cremated. There was a memorial service at the new Restful Seasons Funeral Home, and it was ironic that it would occur during such a busy holiday season. I smiled to myself, thinking that being a former mailman, Joe was used to a Christmas rush.
“Are you going to Joe Nelson’s funeral?” my father asked that night on the phone.
“I hadn’t planned on it. I guess I’ve known Mr. Nelson my whole life. If only it weren’t so close to Christmas. I really don’t have any time to spare.”
“I know how you feel,” he sighed. “I was asking because I was hoping you would consider coming along with me. There are a few people I’d like to keep my eye on. It will give me at least an hour to observe them.”
“Like who?” I was pretty sure I knew the answer to this question, but maybe Dad had more suspects in mind.
“I want to keep my eye on Karen. Now that her daughter is back in town, there is just something about that young lady I don’t trust.”
I relayed what I had witnessed yesterday and the awkward homecoming between the two women.
“Does she look like she’s using?”
I shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. I’ve never been good at recognizing that kind of thing. She looked like she was happy to see her mother—and like she had dressed up for the occasion. It seemed sincere, but for all I know it could have been an act.”
Even though I was very busy, I decided to attend Joe Nelson’s funeral with Dad. I sat in a pew at Pastor Green’s Community Church between my aunt and my father. Maggie made arrangements for Danny to be elsewhere. Funerals were extremely difficult for him.
Aunt Maggie whispered in my ear, “Joe sure drew a crowd. Maybe they promised Enid wouldn’t sing.”
“He meant a lot to people around here,” I whispered back.
“Besides that, he was just a good guy. Of course people would show up for his funeral.”
A small green urn rested on a high table at the front of the altar. It was all that was left of the mailman who, though he had shown our community a lifetime of kindness, would instead be remembered for hoarding mail in his garage. Ruby Green came barreling in and sat next to Maggie.
“Holy holly. Everybody wants to get their hair done before Christmas. I had to close the shop so I could come over.”
Ruby had on a beautiful pair of leather boots I hadn’t seen before. I pointed down to them and whispered, “Nice.”
She sat up straight like a peacock in the afternoon sun. “Thank you. I just came into some money, you might say.” Ruby seemed happier than I’d seen her in a while. She was fairly beaming.
“What kind of money? Did Joe leave you money, too?” Maggie asked.
“No. Let’s just say I cashed in on an asset.”
Aunt Maggie gasped and then smiled at her old friend. “You didn’t!”
Ruby must have signed up for a reverse mortgage deal. What else could drop cash in her lap right before Christmas?
“If you are going to tell us you got a reverse mortgage, I certainly hope you checked this company out,” my father whispered.
“I can tell when someone is dishonest, Judd. This is authentic, and I’m better for it. I’ve paid off some of my credit card debt, and now I’m able to relax a little bit.”
My eyes went down to her new footwear once again. The cost of those boots looked to be in the hundreds. I was sure that if I looked inside, I would find a designer label. It didn’t seem a prudent purchase for someone who was trying to get out of debt. It was really none of my business, but I wished Ruby would’ve taken a little time to check out the reverse mortgage company. If it went bad, she could lose her shop, The Best Little Hairhouse in Texas. It could get so bad the entire nation would need to sell their stock in Final Net. It could be awful for everyone.
