Mysteries to Die For
Page 4
In the morning, after a restless nap, Dagger showered and drove over to Sara's. He rapped lightly on the back door. After a few moments, he peered through the screen at the empty kitchen. Somewhere inside he heard someone crying. Pulling lightly on the door, it opened and he stepped inside.
On the kitchen counter was a sheet of paper with his name printed in shaky lettering. Beside the notepad was the leather cord necklace Sara's grandmother had worn yesterday.
Dagger followed the soft cries to the downstairs bedroom where he found Sara, her arms wrapped around her grandmother. Ada was a light shade of gray and her face had the most serene look.
"Sara?" Dagger sat on the edge of the bed.
Sara slowly looked up. "She must have died in her sleep." Sara let the tears fall freely, pressing her cheek to Ada's forehead. "She promised she would never leave me," Sara sobbed. Her hand shook as she swiped at her tears.
Dagger felt Ada's skin. Rigor was beginning to set in.
He kept Sara busy gathering Ada's possessions that she might want buried with her while he dug a grave on a flowery knoll overlooking Thornton Creek. Sara carried some of Ada's favorite plants to the gravesite.
After pounding a makeshift cross into the ground, Dagger returned to the house to find Sara sitting cross-legged on the couch, sobbing quietly, her hands clenched tightly. He sat down next to her.
"It's as if Grandmother knew." She unfolded the note and handed him the necklace. "I think she wanted you to have this."
Dagger took the necklace from her and touched her arm. Her body recoiled like the frightened wolf he had found in the forest. Sara, too, was afraid of all humans except her grandmother. It would take a lot to quell her fears of living in a world as an outcast.
For a moment when he had met Ada yesterday, he had wondered if she was Sara's great-grandmother, not grandmother. If he counted the folds of skin as anyone would the rings in a tree to determine age, she had to have been over one hundred years old. It was as though she had been waiting for someone to take her place as Sara's protector. Once Dagger came on the scene, Ada seemed grateful finally to be able to rest.
His gaze drifted toward the skylights and he took in the enormous size of the house. The property was isolated, safe, and secure. He walked over to an adjacent room that was sparsely dotted with floor plants. By the looks of the floor drains, it might have been planned as the service center for the car dealership.
Glancing over at Sara he saw a frightened child in many ways but a unique woman in others. Although Ada Kills Bull had been able to be a companion and confidante to her granddaughter, there was very little she taught her about the outside world, his world.
"Come here, Sara."
Slowly Sara approached, still keeping her distance, her hands trembling.
"Einstein and I have been kicked out of our apartment and office. I think this area would make a great bird room. I can take over your grandmother's bedroom and," he turned toward the living room, "I can cordon off a portion of the living room to set up my office." He studied her face as she nervously chewed on her bottom lip. "What do you think?"
"You mean you want to move in here after you are married?"
"No, Sara. There isn't going to be a wedding."
"Oh."
"That relationship was on shaky ground from the start."
"Oh," Sara repeated.
"I can pay you one thousand dollars a month for the room and office space."
"That's way too much," Sara protested.
"You need to make a living, Sara. You can't live on vegetables and hand-me-downs all your life." At least she didn't say no, Dagger thought. "Seven hundred and fifty and that's my last offer." Sara forced a smile. "Dagger Investigations could also use a partner."
"Me?"
Dagger smiled. "I could use someone with your unusual...talents." Sara's eyes filled again. He cautiously reached out, wrapped his arms around her and held her until she stopped shaking. "You're going to be fine, Sara," he whispered. "Your secret is safe with me."
- END -
Note:
Sara Morningsky first appeared in A Mystery in Mind Anthology in 2004 by the Rhine Research Center in North Carolina.
A DIAMOND IN THE RUFF
Lee Driver
This short story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Any slights of people, places, or organizations is purely unintentional.
Copyright ©2004 by Lee Driver
All rights reserved.
This short story or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
A DIAMOND IN THE RUFF
From the Case Files of Chase Dagger
Lee Driver
The woman standing in the doorway had been tsk-tsking for thirty seconds. "You don't look like a detective." She squinted behind sequined glasses as she sized up Dagger. "Are you packing? All authentic detectives pack heat."
Chase Dagger drilled a stare into the pink-haired woman as he slowly spread his hands across his waist, opening his leather coat to expose the Kimber .45 attached to his belt holster on the right and a knife sheathed on the left. Unimpressed, one penciled eyebrow lifted slightly. Dagger sighed and pulled up his pants leg where a compact pistol that looked more like a toy gun nestled in an ankle holster.
"Huh," the elderly woman snorted. "You look more like a terrorist. Don't you shave?" She hugged what looked like the business end of a dust mop to her chest. Two beady eyes like black pearls stared intently from the dust mop. As if to punctuate its mistress' attitude, the dust mop squeaked out a "yip."
Dagger rubbed the five o-clock shadow which had sprouted the moment the blade left his skin. "Mrs. Van Pelletier, I can certainly refer you to another detective if you don't feel comfortable, although as I understand it, you've already fired one. However, that is a decision you could have made before I drove all this way only to stand on your doorstep freezing my ass off for the past three minutes. Not to mention I spent the night in Motel Hell where the walls were so thin I could hear the couple next door..."
Josephine Van Pelletier flipped up a hand like a stop sign. "Please, spare me the details. Come in." She stepped aside as the fluffy mop let out another yip. It kept its eyes on Dagger as he followed through the marbled foyer.
Dagger wondered exactly how far a size eleven shoe could kick a dog that size. It was all fur and teeth. He might have to shoot it. Dagger made a mental note to pummel Simon for talking him into this case. The mail carrier had heard from a friend that a very rich acquaintance had a personal problem that needed to be handled with the utmost of secrecy.
"We'll have coffee, Tanita," Mrs. Van Pelletier instructed a young woman who was dressed more like a nurse than a maid. She pointed a well-manicured finger toward a loveseat. "Please have a seat, Mr. Dagger."
"Call me Dagger." He scanned the artwork on the walls, then let his eyes roam over the Oriental pottery, gleaming wood tables, and thick Persian rugs. There were gold monogrammed cocktail napkins sitting on the coffee table next to several bottles of pills and a glass of water. Her beady eyes locked onto his ponytail as though she were assessing his appearance. He felt like holding out his hands for fingernail inspection.
"Mrs. Van Pelletier," he began.
"Josephine, please. I know my full name is a mouthful." There was a crinkling of crinoline as she took a seat on the couch across from him. The Queen of Hearts came to mind as Dagger glanced at the high collar on her dress, balloon sleeves, and scooped neck. A string of pearls was draped just low enough to entice the dust mop who had shifted its attention from Dagger. It licked and slobbered at the pearls.
Tanita returned with a tray and set it on the coffee table. The dust mop yipped again prompting a "Quiet, Cedar," from Josephine.
Cedar Dust Mop, Dagger thought with a chuckle. "Did your husband name the dog?"
I'm psychic, he felt like saying. I can spot a nutcase from a mile away. "Lucky guess." He took a sip of coffee weak enough that he could see the bottom of the cup. Cedar went back to licking the pearls while Dagger settled into his seat. "When did you discover your husband missing?"
She looked toward the door to make sure Tanita had closed it. "Night before last," she replied. "He's always with me when I go to bed. But when I got up yesterday morning, he was gone. It was so disturbing I couldn't bring myself to tell our sons. They would think I was hallucinating."
Dagger's attention drifted to the wealth oozing from the woman's pores. The dog's nails were painted the same color as Josephine's and he could swear there was a slight tint of pink to the dog's fur. Josephine's make-up had been applied with care and expertise. The house itself looked like a Georgia plantation with Josephine as the queen of the mansion. The Van Pelletiers had raised horses in their day.
Josephine rattled the fine china cup on the saucer and eyed him suspiciously. "You aren't taking any notes," she snapped.
Dagger tapped the side of his head. "It's all up here." He wanted to tell her that all of her problems were in the same location but refrained from being his usual direct self. Besides, it's always best to get the check first.
"This is a serious matter, young man. I am completely traumatized by the whole ordeal." Cedar punctuated her concern with a couple of yips, then went back to licking the pearls.
"I take my work very seriously, ma'am. I usually don't do missing persons but a friend said you were looking for someone who was quick and secretive."
"I'm sure the money wasn't a factor. Fifty thousand dollars plus expenses should buy me the best, especially when the detective promises results in twenty-four hours. Be advised. I don't pay frauds." She rubbed her gnarled fingers through the dog's fur.
"Twenty-four hours is what I promised." He finished his coffee, which wasn't saying much. The demitasse cups in a Chinese restaurant hold more liquid. He nodded toward a photo framed in silver sitting at the end of the coffee table. "Is that your husband?"
"This was taken the year Chuck's Pride won the Derby," she said, beaming. She handed the picture to Dagger. "He was Charles' favorite horse."
Dagger studied the picture of what could have been a duke decked out in a crested blazer and ascot standing next to a horse the color of chestnut. Two younger versions of Charles, who Dagger guessed to be in their thirties, stood opposite Charles. What they said was true, Dagger thought -- owners and their pets start to look alike. Charles' hair was the same color, although his had threads of silver. The old man appeared in good shape, sleek and firm, with a long nose and flared nostrils. Dagger couldn't help noticing that Josephine and Cedar both had nests of pink cotton candy hair and small, beady eyes peering from under a fluff of bangs.
"Do your sons live here?"
"They moved to Kentucky when Charles entered our horses in the races. It was more convenient if they stayed near the horses. Charles didn't think the ride back and forth was any good for them. They always got car sick."
"Your sons or the horses?" This time Dagger's comment elicited two raised eyebrows. He didn't feel it was that unusual of a question. He shook that one off and placed the picture back on the coffee table. "Did your husband have any enemies?"
"Everyone loved Charles. Very personable. We are a philanthropic family."
"Was he having money problems?"
"What?" Josephine found this amusing. She fanned one arm in a gesture that said look around you. "Does it look like I'm hurting for money?"
"What about blackmail or extortion?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, a little too quickly, he thought.
Dagger wondered if she were the type of woman to have her husband murdered. It's always the quiet, sweet ones you have to watch out for. It wouldn't surprise him if she were the matron of a Corleone-type Mafia family spewing out hit orders in a soft, demur voice, maybe even carrying out the hit herself. Maybe she made him a cup of tea with water from a vase of Lily of the Valley flowers. Very poisonous and effective. He cautiously raised his coffee cup and took a sniff.
"I'm curious why you didn't call the police. Someone with your obvious connections and influence could certainly get the police department to drop what they were doing to help a prominent family in the community." For some reason Mrs. Van Pelletier preferred to keep the disappearance of her husband from the police. His gaze dropped to the prescription bottles. He cocked his head in an attempt to read the labels but the movement was drawing Josephine's attention.
Dagger's radar was blasting at high decibels. Josephine wasn't worried enough to call the police yet was suspicious or desperate enough to call in a P.I. More puzzling was she hadn't called her sons. Was she getting senile and imagining things and didn't want her sons to worry? Is that why she was on medication? Did her husband leave her for a younger woman and Josephine refused to face the reality that he was never coming back?
"Have you received any threatening phone calls recently?" Dagger's question prompted a quick shake of pink cotton candy. "What about a ransom note or phone call?" Another eye-jarring shake of pink. Dagger was starting to see pink spots in front of his eyes.
Dagger stood slowly, drawing a throaty growl from the pink fluff. He wasn't quite sure which pink fluff it came from. He crossed the room to the windows overlooking an expanse of acreage. In the distance he could see a sizeable pond surrounded by the colors of fall foliage. With a set of concrete slippers, a body could stay at the bottom of that pond forever.
"Has Charles ever sleep-walked?" Dagger asked. Josephine laughed. It was a high-pitched giggle that reminded him of one of the munchkins in the Wizard of Oz movie. He turned away from the window and stared at the elderly woman. He was trying to take the case seriously but you'd think she was watching Comedy Central. Maybe the pond held the last detective she had hired.
"Charles always slept like a log. Why, a train could go through the center of the house and he wouldn't hear a thing."
This wasn't getting him anywhere. Lucky thing he hadn't guaranteed results in one hour. Maybe he was asking the wrong questions.
"Josephine, you said you discovered your husband missing night before last."
"Correct."
"So that is the last time you actually saw him."
Her penciled brows scrunched in thought. "Well, no. The last time I actually saw him was three years ago...at his funeral."
Huh?
"I am so embarrassed," Josephine stammered as she counted out fifty thousand dollars in cash.
Dagger smiled to himself as he watched the gardener outside the dining room windows. Josephine had spoken in perfect Spanish to the man whose face displayed the utter dismay at what he had to do.
"You understand, don't you?" Josephine asked. "I couldn't tell my sons what I did with their father. They had wanted his ashes spread over Churchill Downs in Louisville. That was the request in his will. I just couldn't do that. So I asked a friend who owns the funeral home if he could give me a vase with some, you know, leftover ashes."
Leftover? Dagger didn't even want to go there.
"Charles and I had been together since we were teens," Josephine continued. "I just wanted to keep him with me all the time." She shuffled the stack of bills and pushed them toward Dagger. "I don't think Charles would have objected. Do you?"
Dagger pressed his thumb and forefinger to the corners of his mouth to push back the smile. What he really wanted to do was double over in laughter but the elderly woman was downright resolute about her actions.
"Charles would have been the first one to applaud the technology. I'm sure he would have done the same to me...maybe." She gathered Cedar in her arms and turned back to the windows where the gardener had finished washing off the pendant and was now placing it in a cleaning solvent.
"For now, though," Dagger said, "I think I would
avoid wearing jewelry around Cedar, or just not let him sleep with you." Dagger shoved the money into a leather pouch, saying, "Matter of fact, I'd take that pendant to a jeweler and have it thoroughly sanitized and reset."
Dagger walked past the gardener on his way to the driveway. Advanced technology had found a way to turn the human body into diamonds. One body could yield up to fifty stones. Charles Van Pelletier was now a ten-carat diamond pendant, a tennis bracelet, and diamond stud earrings. It was lucky for Josephine that the groundskeeper had not yet cleaned up after Cedar.
- END -
SOLVING LIFE'S RIDDLE
S.D. Tooley
This short story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Any slights of people, places, or organizations is purely unintentional.
Copyright ©2007 by Sandra Tooley
All rights reserved.
This short story or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
SOLVING LIFE'S RIDDLE
S.D. Tooley
Trust no one. That is what the old man had told me. Even now, up to my ankles in sand on the Eighteenth Street beach, I'm hesitant to tell anyone that I recognize the body they just dragged from Lake Michigan. Well, at least I was fifty percent sure it was J.R. The white hair and full beard were neatly trimmed, just the way J.R. kept his appearance. Brown slacks, a white shirt, and a brown tweed jacket were neatly folded and lying on a bench below the lifeguard's tower. J.R. always swam in black swimming trunks. My certainty just shot up to seventy-five percent.