‘I hope you’re right, Jo,’ Leslie said. ‘I’d really hate for her to see …’ – she gulped – ‘for her to see Josie this way without anyone with her.’
Leslie was so tenderhearted sometimes; it was no wonder that LJ felt safe with her.
‘I agree,’ I replied, ‘which is why I’m going to ask this nice officer,’ I paused, looking at the shiny badge on the woman’s uniform jacket, ‘this nice Officer Kingsley if she might have seen our friend Lily.’ I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly fashion at the poker-faced officer. My lips felt like they were stuck against my teeth, my mouth had gone so dry.
‘Who are you looking for?’ The question was directed at me, although I caught the swift glance that took in Leslie as well. Boy, these officers had quick eyes. They probably saw everything and then some.
‘We are part of Becklaw’s Murder Mystery Tour – not a real murder, I mean – and the, er … deceased is, or was, a part of our play.’ Great, Jo. You sure knew how to fumble the verbal ball. I must have sounded halfway sensible to Officer Kingsley, though. She extracted a notepad from the breast pocket of her jacket and unclipped the pen that came with it.
‘OK, first things first. Name?’ She waited, pen poised over the pad. I stared at her a bit dumbly. Name? What name? My name?
She must have been able to read thoughts because she smiled kindly at me. ‘I need the name of the person you’re trying to find, ma’am.’
Oh. That name. ‘Lily.’ There. I felt as triumphant as if I had produced the Golden Ticket.
‘Last name?’ Again the pen was ready to write.
I turned to look at Leslie, who in turn shrugged helplessly. We hadn’t even learned Lily’s last name. Brilliant.
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted, sounding to my ears like someone who wasn’t too sure of anything. ‘You could try looking for her dress, though.’ Great, Jo. That sounded even more stupid, if such a thing were possible at that moment.
‘Her dress?’ I’ll say this for Officer Kingsley: she was one cool cat, not even batting an eye when I made my goofy suggestion.
Leslie hurried to speak, apparently not trusting me to produce a coherent description of what Lily had been wearing the last time we saw her. That made sense, though, I had to admit. Leslie had dressed the girl.
As Leslie gave Officer Kingsley the pertinent information, I turned to look around the parking lot again, hoping to spot Lily. Instead, the person I did see caused me to drop my jaw, much as Miss Lucinda had just minutes ago.
Standing as close as he could to the taped-off area stood Skinny Joe. He seemed to be alternately looking at Josie – who was now covered, thank goodness and may God rest her soul – or peering at the ground. What was this man’s game? I wondered. A tug at my sleeve drew my attention.
‘Jo? Officer Kingsley said that when they find her,’– her tone had stressed the ‘when’ – ‘she or someone else will let us know. In the meantime, we need to get back inside with Miss Bea and Miss Lucinda.’
‘Sounds good,’ I answered. My voice must have had an inflection in it because both the cop and Leslie stared at me. I smiled at the two of them, giving them my best Cheshire Cat impression.
‘All righty then,’ Leslie commented to no one in particular. ‘And thanks, Officer. We’ll wait to hear something from you.’ With her hand clinging firmly to my arm, she began marching us across the parking lot and up the walkway that led to the dining room.
A few feet from the door, she stopped abruptly, spinning me around to face her. ‘OK, Jo. What gives? I know that tone you used back there. Something’s up.’ She stood there, arms crossed and eyes boring into mine.
‘I saw …’ I hesitated, trying to work out what it was that I had seen.
‘You saw what, Jo?’ Leslie could be impatient when she wanted, which was now, apparently.
I took in a deep breath and made up my mind. ‘I saw Skinny Joe out there by Josie, staring at her and looking around on the ground like he’d lost something.’ There. I’d given voice to my thoughts. I waited while Leslie digested my words.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you saying that Joe might have killed her?’
‘No. Yes. Oh, I don’t know, Leslie!’ I sounded snappish, but I was getting mighty tired of folks thinking that I always had the answers. ‘Well, maybe.’
‘Hmm.’ She hadn’t noticed my tone, thank goodness. ‘Let’s say he did it. What would he have been looking for?’
I thought for a moment. ‘Maybe he dropped something? Something that could be tied directly to him?’
‘OK,’ nodded Leslie. ‘That makes sense. Let’s go with that. What might he have dropped?’
Out of the corner of my left eye, I could see a bulky figure moving our way. Actually, moving directly toward us. And fairly fast, which was amazing, considering that it was not-so-Skinny Joe.
‘Ah, Leslie, let’s take this inside,’ I suggested, taking my turn at sleeve-grabbing and trying to move us into the veritable safety of the dining room.
Too late. In the few seconds it took Leslie to register what I said, then turn and get an eyeful of the heft closing in on us, we were trapped. Joe stood between us and the door, effectively blocking our chance at escape.
Just then, I felt like that wriggling mouse Derek had caught on that first morning at Miss Bea’s: I had nowhere to run except in circles.
He said nothing, but instead stood there with his beefy hands on his hips, nostrils flared in anger and eyes fairly snapping sparks.
What is it about the vacuum of silence that we humans deem it necessary to fill it?
I filled it, all right.
The gibberish that came from my mouth had a funny effect on Skinny Joe. His hands dropped to his sides, his eyes opened to their widest, and he took a step back from me as if to protect himself from the nonsense spilling from my lips. Although I can’t recall my exact words, here is a paraphrased version:
‘I saw you, Joe. I saw you looking around on the ground for whatever it was that you dropped when you brutally murdered that poor Josie. In fact, I’ve already reported my suspicions to the police. If I were you, I’d run.’
Or something to that effect. Leslie told me later that I not only accused him of Josie’s death, but also global warming, the rise in gasoline prices, and the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa. While I don’t recall that, I can say I certainly lit a fire under that man’s massive behind. He was off like a shot.
Chapter Thirteen
The rest of the evening passed by in a blur. We each had our turn with the officers and were finally cleared to leave. Miss Bea then did a most surprising thing: she let Derek drive.
I sat in the front seat with him and Miss Lucinda, squeezed between them like an almost empty tube of toothpaste. Leslie and Miss Bea sat on either side of LJ in the back, Miss Bea leaning close to LJ’s huge arm for comfort. Or because she was afraid of falling out of the car. LJ did take up quite a bit of real estate.
The drive to the KOA site was depressingly quiet. I couldn’t think of a single clever comment to make, and even Derek’s dry humor seemed to be in hiding. A pall had fallen over us – I’ve always wanted to use that phrase – and settled in around our group like a thick blanket. Even though none of us knew Josie that well, her untimely death was firmly connected with Becklaw’s Murder Mystery Tour, and Becklaw’s Murder Mystery Tour was firmly connected with the six of us.
Lily still had not shown her face. A ‘Possible Missing Person’ report was taken by Officer Kingsley, who assured us that Lily had probably been spooked by the entire episode. On the other hand, we still hadn’t been able to reach her on her cell. It was a worrisome issue, that was for sure.
Derek piloted the station wagon smoothly down the highway and to the KOA, pulling into the wide driveway just as the dashboard clock showed eleven o’clock. Maybe it was because of the fact that I saw the time, but suddenly I was dead on my feet. Oops, I corrected myself. A better turn of phrase might be in order.
We paus
ed in front of Miss Lucinda’s trailer, and I walked with her to the door to make sure that she made it in safely. Actually, I had an ulterior motive. As we reached the top step leading to her door, I whispered sotto voce, ‘Where do you think that Lily is? Do you reckon something happened to her as well?’
I truly was worried about her. Somehow I just couldn’t picture her being so perturbed that she would leave the fairgrounds without telling anyone where she was going.
Miss Lucinda, bless her heart, did not miss a beat, using the moment she unlocked the door to whisper back, ‘I think she’s in on it.’
And in she walked, leaving me on the steps with my mouth hanging wide open. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. My mother would warn me about catching flies.
Next stop was our trailer. Derek had agreed to take charge of checking it out for us after parking the car, then walk with LJ back to their abode, and that suited me and the other gals just fine. I was jumpy and all I needed was going into a dark trailer with two other women who were as nervous as I was.
LJ and Derek made a quick sweep of the trailer’s interior, assuring us that no one had come in since we had left earlier that evening. With that reassurance, we felt safe enough to dash up the steps, slam the door behind us, and quickly throw the two locks. I could swear I heard Derek chuckling as he and LJ began their short walk back toward the front of the campground.
Miss Bea perched on the edge of the couch, an unhappy look on her face. She was feeling responsible for this entire escapade, I could tell, and I moved over to put a comforting arm around her. Leslie had the same thought, and the three of us huddled together on the sofa, arms entwined and silent as church mice. Neither one of us could think of a single consoling word to help Miss Bea feel better.
At least no one could accuse us of being a pair of Job’s Comforters.
Finally Miss Bea stirred herself, shook off our arms, and stood to her feet. ‘I’ll make us some tea,’ she said miserably. Sweet Miss Bea – always taking care of others and yet not knowing how to take care of herself. Off she tottered to the kitchen, a little black rain cloud almost visible over her head.
The tea was hot, strong, and sweet. Leslie had followed Miss Bea into the kitchen and thoughtfully added some fudge-filled sandwich cookies to the tray, so we were definitely working our way toward a sugar overload. Oh, well: I’d always heard that sugary tea helps to calm overwrought nerves. Of course, if that were true, Great Britain should be jitter-free. I’m not too sure that I was convinced. But I was willing to give it a try. I don’t know if I felt calm or just hung over on sugar by the time I got to bed, but whichever was the case, I fell asleep as soon as my weary head hit the pillow.
I’m not certain what woke me. At first I wasn’t even sure if I was awake or having a very real dream, the kind of dream that stays with you for days after. Somewhere in the distance I could hear a high tinkling sound, something like the sound that Tinker Bell might make. (I know – silly comparison. But I can’t think of anything else, and Tinker Bell does tinkle. So there.) Whatever it was, I thought it was lovely.
I lay there a fraction longer, another noise edging out the crystalline echo. It was much louder, and by then I figured out that I was not asleep at all. My heart was well ahead of my brain at the moment, and had already detached itself from my chest and had leapfrogged into my throat. A series of thuds seemed to be coming from the front room, and I thought I could also detect the sound of feet shushing over the carpet.
Moving as carefully as I could, I eased the covers back from my neck and shoulders where I had bunched them up around me for security the night before. It’s amazing just how loud sheets can sound when you’re trying to move quietly.
I managed to extract myself from the bed and began to tiptoe over to the bedroom door, pausing to grab the hairbrush I had laid on the nightstand. I’m not too sure what I thought I could do with that, but I felt armed.
Now I could hear definite movement from the front of the trailer. I strained my ears to hear what was going on out there; I was trying to see if there was more than one person, but the level of noise told me that it was probably just one person.
Just one person? I mentally scolded myself. One burglar in the place was one too many. I tried to hear movement from Leslie’s or Miss Bea’s rooms, but the soft duet of snores told me that they were out dead to the world.
Oh, good grief, Jo, I thought to myself. You are really going to have to clean up your vocabulary. Let me rephrase that: Miss Bea and Leslie were out cold. Not what I meant to say, but you get the drift.
The defense of our happy little home was apparently up to me, so I quickly hatched a plan. I would leap out of my room, brandish my hairbrush in the burglar’s startled – and hopefully scared – face and scream like a banshee. I could do it, too. When my brothers would tease me, I could send up a screech that would make any fire siren proud. I figured that my scream would act as an alarm for Miss Bea and Leslie, and, if the truth be told, probably most of the KOA visitors as well.
Taking a deep breath, I wrenched open my door, took a running leap out of my room, and let off a scream that could have woken the dead. Oops – wrong sentiment. But you get the idea.
I’m not sure who was the more startled: me or Lily.
Doors began banging open as Miss Bea and Leslie stumbled from their respective rooms, looks of pure terror on their faces. I had stayed frozen in place, my mouth still wide open and my eyes following suit. Lily looked like a participant in the childhood game of ‘Statues’, one hand hovering over Miss Bea’s large handbag and one holding a piece of paper aloft.
Did I mention doors banging open? Yes, I managed to awaken at least three neighbors on each side of us, most of whom came charging toward our trailer in various stages of dress, or undress, as the case may be. It took a while to calm everyone down enough to leave and return to their own trailers, but Miss Bea, bless her heart, managed to do it. I could tell our KOA buddies were now positive a basket case was vacationing next to them.
I wanted to say: Huh. You haven’t met Crazy Great-Aunt Opal.
Back to Lily. As I mentioned, I caught her red-handed, digging through Miss Bea’s capacious handbag in the darkness of our trailer’s front room. By the time that we had shooed the neighbors back to their respective beds and had turned our attention to Lily, she had moved from the ‘scared spitless’ stage to one of defiance. That, to me, was odd, considering she was somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be and was still considered a missing person. Lily, though, seemed to feel that we owed her the explanation of why I had not only frightened her but also come bouncing at her with a hairbrush.
Sometimes the world spins around on its axis, and sometimes the universe seems to turn on its head. This was definitely a head-over-heels moment.
Chapter Fourteen
Lily sat on the sofa, hands clasped in her lap and her feet set primly together on the floor. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought that this year’s must-have color was black when it came to clothing styles; Lily’s black pants, black turtleneck and black tennis shoes were either cutting-edge stylish or she was emulating a cat burglar.
My vote was on the latter.
Leslie, Miss Bea, and I stood in a row in front of the sofa and its occupant, as sober as judges and waiting to see who would blink first, so to speak. Lily blinked.
‘I know I shouldn’t have just let myself in like I did,’ – huge eye roll from me and Leslie, especially since the glass from the broken window was clearly sparkling on the floor – ‘but I really needed to find out what happened to Josie.’ She stopped, assumed a pious expression, and waited for a response.
Boy, did I ever have a response for her. However, Miss Bea saved me from further embarrassing myself by jumping into the conversational void.
‘I’m not sure what you thought you’d find in my handbag,’ Miss Bea said, giving a significant look at the purse that was now well out of Lily’s reach. ‘I have no more idea about what took place
tonight than you do.’
I wanted so badly to add, ‘Or do you know more than you’re letting on?’ That, I think, might have been a trifle too much at this point. Be that as it may, Miss Bea’s words still caused Lily to flush angrily and become defensive. What was the world coming to when a burglar blamed the burglaree for causing the break-in?
‘If someone had been so kind as to explain to me what was going on tonight, I wouldn’t have had to do this. I happen to be the librarian of Manchester Public Library, and I’ll have you know that my character is without blemish,’ Lily huffed, folding her scrawny arms across an equally scrawny chest. (No wonder she wanted that ‘modesty panel’ in her costume, I thought.)
Oh, ho! Here was leverage worth using, I thought, with a somewhat malicious grin. There was no way on God’s green earth that someone like Lily would want their precious reputation tarnished with something as vile as breaking and entering.
‘If you’ll beg my pardon for interrupting, Miss Bea, I’d like to know exactly what it was that Lily thought she might find here. At night. In our trailer.’
My words were directed at Miss Bea but my eyes were on Lily. My, she was one cool customer. Without breaking a sweat, Lily managed to exude ‘hurt feelings’ and ‘I can’t believe you’d even ask that’, all with just a sigh and a full-blown eye roll.
Leslie spoke up, and the rest of us stared at her. What she had to say made sense when I didn’t think that common sense could enter this convoluted equation.
‘Miss Bea, I think that we should be asking Lily where she was for those hours immediately following the discovery of the …’ She hesitated, still having an issue with the word ‘body’. ‘With finding Josie, I mean.’
She returned Lily’s stare with one of her own. I might actually place Leslie’s ‘stare’ in the ‘glare’ department. I was so proud of her I could burst, but I satisfied myself with an ‘atta girl’ and an air-five, Miss Bea’s bulk separating us from an actual hand slap.
Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series) Page 9
