Classic Revenge

by Mitzi Kelly

  They had been spotted.

  Trish paced the floor in her kitchen. She had dropped Edna and Millie off a little while before, and she was trying to unwind after the unsettling events of the evening, but a sense of impending doom loomed over her, and she couldn't shake it. She spotted her exercise machine out of the corner of her eye and resolutely turned her back on it without a qualm. Exercise was definitely out of the question.

  Common sense told her it was perfectly understandable she would feel spooked right now. Tom Jones had seen them, or at least their car, and the driver of the black Camaro had seen them too. If either of these people had killed Susan Wiley, would they hesitate to kill again? And just where did Mary Chavez fit into all this? The questions swirled in Trish's mind, but they were no closer to finding an answer than when they had decided to prove Sam's innocence themselves.

  She walked to the living room and peered outside. Everything appeared normal. Millie didn't have the sense to be frightened, and Edna felt secure with Joe. Trish hadn't voiced her fears aloud, of course, but she felt responsible for the safety of all of them.

  She gave a deep sigh, checked all the locks on the doors, and went to bed. She wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.

  She was wrong. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out. It was sometime later that she was awakened by the ringing of the phone. Instantly awake, she grabbed the phone, her heart in her throat. "Hello?"

  "I told you! I was right-I told you so!" Millie's singsong voice rang out with glee.

  Trish rubbed her eyes. "What are you talking about? What time is it, anyway?"

  "It's morning, and I'm talking about Mary Chavez. I just saw a small blurb on the news. Mary didn't kill herself. She was murdered!"

  "This is serious, Trish." Millie was on her second cup of coffee and had repeated the same sentence for the third time now.

  Finally! Trish wasn't sure that jumping for joy would be appropriate, but, nevertheless, she was thrilled Millie finally understood what a serious situation this was. Playing detective definitely had some bright spots, and she felt that some of their clues would be instrumental in closing out the case, but now it was time to let the real pros take over. It would even be nice to let Millie be the one to call Chief Espinoza, to tell him everything they knew, and then maybe they could all go do something that old women normally did.

  "Tom Jones must realize we're on his trail, but he probably doesn't know exactly how much we actually suspect. We've got to be very careful. We can't afford to make any mistakes that could make him go underground" Millie got up from the table to get yet another cup of coffee. "We still don't have any hard evidence."

  Trish blinked, visions of shopping and dining out fleeing from her mind. "Are you crazy?"

  "Well, that depends on who you ask" Millie smiled impishly. "Now, I called Michelle early this morning and gave her the tag numbers from the car. Since she works for an insurance company, she'll be able to tell us who the car is registered to. I told her to call me over here" She sat back down and looked at her watch. "Edna will be here soon. Get me some paper and a pen, will you?" Practically licking her chops, Millie rubbed her hands together. "We're getting close, I can feel it!"

  "Stop it, Millie!" Trish demanded, her eyes almost popping out of her head. "Stop it right now, or I'm going to have you committed. Do you realize what you're saying? There have been two murders-two! This is out of our hands now. We're done ... finished ... kaput ... the end! Do you understand?" Trish's voice had risen and her hands were clenched tightly on the table. She had to make Millie stop this now, and, if it came right down to it, she'd physically sit on top of her to keep the old coot safe.

  "I understand that you're quitting right when we're about to solve Susan's murder." Millie's voice had risen a few octaves too. "And here I thought Edna was the wimp," she added, sticking her nose in the air.

  "Why, you-"

  "What's going on in here?" Edna asked from the doorway, a worried frown on her face. "I knocked, but nobody heard me. I can't imagine why, with all the yelling going on. Anyone care to fill me in?"

  "Millie's crazy"

  "Trish is a wimp."

  Edna held up a hand, a smile pulling at her lips. "Slow down, please. I've known you both a long time now. Trish is definitely not a wimp, and Millie, there are times that you're not crazy. What's this all about?"

  Millie huffed and sat with her arms crossed while Trish explained to Edna what had caused the disagreement.

  "Well," Edna began, and then sat down, clearing her throat, "well, I guess I can understand both your opinions."

  "What do you mean?" Trish asked incredulously. Millie looked over at her with a smug expression and smiled.

  "Well ," Edna hesitated. She swallowed, her gaze focused on her fingers twisting nervously on the table, and then swallowed again. "It's just that Joe and I talked to Sam last night on the telephone just about things in general, you know, and to see how he was doing. He just sounded so ... dejected. It broke my heart," Edna took a deep breath and looked up. "I think the enormity of everything that has happened is really sinking in, and he's feeling helpless and alone. I'm worried he may fall into a state of depression that he can't pull himself out of"

  The room was silent for a while. "That's the main reason we need to let the police do their job," Trish said, but her tone lacked conviction, even to herself.

  "No, that's the main reason we need to speed things up and solve this ourselves," Millie said in a quiet, firm voice. She held up a hand when Trish started to interrupt. "Look, despite what everyone thinks, I'm not crazy and I'm not stupid. Sure, there's a chance that justice will ultimately prevail and the real killer will be discovered, but how long is that going to take? Since the police believe Sam is guilty, they're not seriously looking at anybody else. So, what happens to Sam in the meantime? This is a good, decent man we're talking about, one who just lost the love of his life." Millie's voice was slightly shaking now. "But if we do anything further, we have to do it together or not at all. I vote we continue our investigation, find out who the monster is who could have done this, and free Sam to go through the grieving process and then move on with his life."

  Edna reached over and squeezed Millie's hand. "Count me in," she said quietly. Then they both looked at Trish.

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat and gave a weak smile. "What? You're acting like I have a choice in the matter."

  Millie grinned and then got up to give Trish a big hug. "That's my girl! And, by the way, I never thought you were a wimp. I just wanted to get under your skin."

  Just then the phone rang. "That's probably Michelle," Millie said and hurried to answer it.

  Of course, Trish thought to herself, shaking her head wryly, I never get any phone calls here at my own home. But Millie was right; it was her daughter. She wrote something down on the pad by the phone, her eyes wide in apparent wonder at something Michelle was saying. Trish quickly explained to Edna why Michelle was calling. They could only hear one side of the conversation, but by Millie's comments-"Are you positive? ... That's fantastic! ... Do you have an address?"-the information Michelle was relaying was obviously important.

  A minute later, Millie hung up the phone and sat back down. Excitement was almost exploding from her very pores. "You're not going to believe this! Guess who the car is registered to"

  "Who?" Trish and Edna replied in unison.

  "It's registered to-.-. . Clarissa Jones!"

  For a moment, Trish and Edna both had blank expressions on their face. Then a chill started to spread down Trish's back. "Tom Jones' wife."

  "Well, she's his ex-wife, to be exact," Millie said, a satisfied smile on her face. "I've got her address too."

  "What was Tom Jones' wife doing at Mary's?" Edna asked.

  "I don't know, but we're going to find out," Millie said and rose from her chair. "I'm going to go lock up my house and change shoes. I'll be back in a minute." She was gone before anyone could say anything more.


  "I guess that means we're going somewhere," Edna said, her lips twitching in amusement.

  Trish let out a sigh and nodded. "Well, at least one statement Millie made is true"

  "What's that?"

  "She's not stupid."

  "It doesn't look like anybody's home;" Trish said, slowly driving by the tan stucco townhouse. Amazingly, they had found Clarissa Jones' house without any trouble. They were either getting better at directions or they were just plain lucky. No, they were definitely getting better, Trish thought smugly as she pulled up a few houses away and parked. "Now what do we do?"

  "We wait."

  "And how long do you propose we wait, Millie?" Trish asked, keeping the impatience from her voice with effort. She knew they were all tense, wanting to find solid answers, and she wasn't in the mood for another squabble. "It's mid-morning. Clarissa could be working, or out shopping. It's broad daylight, and I'm not particularly comfortable sitting out here where everybody and their dog can see us"

  "Trish has a point, Millie. We don't want to be too obvious. Now that we know where the house is, we can come back anytime."

  With one last look at the house, Millie sighed loudly and turned around. "Okay, let's go. We've got to do something, though"

  Trish knew she was going to regret her next comment, but since they had all agreed they were going to finish this to the end, they might as well get aggressive-or really, really stupid-in their tactics. "We need to go back to Tom's."

  Millie thought for a moment. She turned slowly then, and looked at Trish with raised eyebrows. "That's a great idea, if I do say so, myself."

  "I don't think we should go now, though," Trish said. "It'd be the same problem with the daylight."

  "Why do we need to go back to Tom's?" Edna asked. "We know that Clarissa went to Mary's house, but we're still just guessing about Tom's involvement."

  "I'd bet my bottom dollar that Clarissa and Tom are in this together," Millie said, her face set in tight lines. "Probably like Bonnie and Clyde, they think they can get away with anything. But they're wrong. They've got us on their tail, and we're going to prove they're guilty."

  And I'll bet they're just shaking in their boots, Trish thought.

  Trish peered over the dashboard and saw Tom get into his truck. When his taillights disappeared around the corner she looked at her companions seriously. "Are you both absolutely positive that you want to do this?" The day had dragged by as they had waited impatiently for the darkness of night to fall. Then, with nerves stretched to the snapping point, they had driven to Tom's, parked a few houses away from his trailer, and waited for some kind of movement.

  "I'm sure," Millie said emphatically.

  After a moment Edna nodded. "I'm sure."

  Trish took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm going to pull the car a little closer. Millie, we've got to act fast. For all we know, Tom may have just gone to the store for a gallon of milk or something. Edna, you stay in the car and if you see Tom coming back, you honk the horn twice and then drive to the entrance of the mobile-home park and wait."

  "Okay, I've got it," Edna said.

  Millie reached over and patted Edna's hand. "Don't worry. Remember, if anything goes wrong, we'll meet you at the entrance. Don't wait more than ten minutes, though. If we don't show up, you drive up the road to that Laundromat we passed on the main street and call Joe immediately."

  Edna sighed deeply. "I know, I know. Just please be careful, and please, please hurry."

  Trish looked at Millie. "Are you ready?"

  "Let's roll!" Millie replied, tightening the dark scarf she wore over her hair. Trish normally would have laughed at Millie's bravado, but right now she was too frightened to do more than roll her eyes. What they were going to do was dangerous and illegal. It was also necessary.

  Trish pulled the car up in front of the trailer right next to Tom's. Without a word, she and Millie got out of the car, and Edna got into the front seat. The sky was dark with slowly moving clouds covering the moon. There wasn't a street light or a porch light to help guide the way as Trish and Millie walked hand in hand toward Tom's trailer. Millie wasn't quite as unaffected by their adventure as she pretended, Trish thought with sympathy as she felt the slight tremor in Millie's hand.

  The lights were still on inside Tom's trailer, and for the first time Trish wondered if someone else might live there. She whispered her thoughts aloud to Millie who only shrugged and said, "There's only one way to find out" Walking up to the door, she pounded on it hard.

  Trish gasped and jumped three feet in the air. What was Millie thinking? What in the world would they say if somebody came to the door? She really wished Millie would start thinking things through before she acted so impulsively.

  After a few seconds, Millie casually sauntered away from the door and started peering in the windows. "Nobody's here," she whispered loudly as she opened her fanny pack and pulled out the bright yellow gloves. "Put these on," she said, throwing a pair to Trish. Next she pulled out a screwdriver and started feeling around the window frames. "Maybe one of these windows is open and we can crawl through"

  Trish wasn't crazy about crawling through a window. With their luck, one of them would get stuck just as Tom came home. If only he had been careless enough to leave a door open. Just for the heck of it, she reached for the front door knob. To her utter surprise, it turned easily. "Millie, the front door is open," she whispered loudly.

  "Now that's what I call luck!" Millie said, scrambling back to the door.

  "Maybe it's not so lucky. It could mean Tom won't be gone for long"

  "You've got a point. We'd better hurry" Millie pushed the door open and walked right in. Trish forced herself not to look over her shoulder as she followed. Hopefully, if anybody was looking, they wouldn't draw any unnecessary attention. Oh yeah, there was a fat chance of that, she thought, considering the bright, colorful gloves.

  They were immediately assaulted by the stench of stale tobacco and greasy food. They were in the main living area of the trailer. Against the far wall was a beige leather sofa, an end table, and an old, beat-up coffee table. Closer to the door was a recliner and another end table facing a television. A lamp without a shade stood on the table, and there was clutter everywhere, old newspapers on the sofa and the floor, overflowing ashtrays on the coffee table and end table. Trish noticed there were paper bags of just about every known fast food joint thrown carelessly around the room.

  There was no personality in the room, no pictures, no memorable knickknacks, nothing but trash. Trish shuddered. Who could live in such filth? She knew Millie had brought the gloves to protect against fingerprints, but she was thinking they might very well protect against disease, as well. Bless Millie and her thoughtfulness.

  Trying not to breathe too deeply, she saw that Millie was carefully looking through the mess around the sofa with one hand while the other one covered her mouth and nose. Trish sighed and looked around. They weren't sure what they were looking for, just anything suspicious, anything that would explain the situation between Tom and his ex-wife, anything they could use to start putting together all the different pieces.

  Stepping over a pile of newspapers, Trish started flipping through a pile of unopened mail on the end table by the recliner. It looked like a lot of notices from bill collectors. Well, you would hardly think that someone with plenty of money would live like this. She replaced the mail on the table and looked around. Millie could probably cover this room by herself, so the smartest thing to do would be to split up.

  One peek in the small bathroom made her quickly come to the conclusion that nothing would be hidden there. And, if it was, it could stay hidden. Fighting a wave of nausea, she moved on down the hall. The next room was made only slightly more bearable by the open window. A light breeze ruffled the faded curtains, a welcome reminder to Trish that fresh air was only a few steps away.

  Evidently, this room served as both the master bedroom and the dirty-clothes hamper. Disgusted, she walk
ed gingerly through the mess, but she was fast becoming dejected. Even if anything was here, it was going to be impossible to find it. A bulldozer would be the only efficient answer.

  She took a deep breath and held it as she bent down to look under the bed. At that same instant, Millie came running into the room. "Trish!"

  Startled, Trish raised up, banging her head painfully on the bed frame. "Ow!"

  "Hush! I think I heard Edna honk the horn a few minutes ago, and I just saw headlights from the window!"

  Trish's jaw dropped. "What do you mean ... `a few minutes ago'?"

  "Give or take a minute or two. We need to get out of here," Millie whispered and closed the door.

  "Why didn't you call out to me?" Trish was looking around wildly, trying to find some means of escape. This was not good, not good at all.

  "I was busy! Now stop complaining, and let's find a way out of here. We can't go out the front door," she said unnecessarily.

  Trish looked over at the open window and grimaced. So much for luck. "Okay, our only chance is the window. Millie, pull that old card table chair over here-hurry!" Trish went to the window and opened the drapes fully. Just as she had hoped, the screen was old and not secured by any security measures. She pushed hard and it flopped onto the open ground. "Okay, I'm going first so I can help you on the other side. I'm warning you, though," she said, pulling herself up and over the ledge, "if you find any reason to stall, I'm leaving your butt here. This is no time for games or heroics."

  Just then, they heard the front door open. Millie was jumping nervously from one foot to the other. "Just hurry, for goodness' sake!"

  Trish landed on the ground with a thud. It was further down than she had anticipated, but it was still manageable. Millie's head poked through the opening. "No," she whispered loudly, "Come out legs-first! I can't catch you if you take a dive head-first"

  "Oh" Millie's head ducked back in and then one leg jutted out. Soon, she was sitting on the ledge. "Are you ready?" It was a pointless question, because Millie jumped at the same instant she uttered it. It wasn't quite what Trish had in mind. She hadn't planned on actually catching her friend; she'd intended to help her crawl down. Instead, all she managed to do was break Millie's fall with her body as they both tumbled to the ground, arms and legs akimbo.