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Cold Case Conundrum second edition
First edition by Sharon Rose
Cold Case Conundrum
(A Mabel Wickles mystery)
Sharon Mierke
Cold Case Conundrum is dedicated to all my friends in Galveston, Texas.
Special thanks to Elfie and Val who took the time to read my first drafts and help with editing. I know it was painful at times but very much appreciated!
Parson’s Cove is a lovely place in the autumn. Folks bustling here and there. A smile on every face. That is as long as there haven't been any murders. For some unknown reason, however, murder seems to strike almost every season. One murder a season. Well, we seemed to have skipped summer but we did have one the beginning of June and it was as hot as August so I'm counting that as a spring/summer murder. Flori and I had just been discussing that very topic yesterday over a cup of coffee. There must be some reason for it.
I could certainly understand murdering someone in the heat of the moment, but not necessarily in the heat of summer. Of course, there's cold-blooded murder. That definitely sounds like a wintertime atrocity.
But then again, why should I worry? I had definitely made it known that I was finished with all this sleuthing nonsense. After all, what business does an old woman past her prime have in digging into people's lives or skulking around in the dead of night–especially if there was no murder, or at best, only a suggestion of one? Besides, if Reg Smee, our sheriff, could retire and be happy, so could I... I think.
Chapter One
Flori stood at the window, watching the pedestrians crisscrossing the street. It was almost eleven and Parson’s Cove fairly bustles on a Saturday morning at this time. It was fall and the days were getting shorter but there was still warmth in the sun. She stood there, draped in sunshine, her coffee mug about five inches from her lips, steam wafting up into her nostrils. When Flori drinks coffee, all her senses get involved.
“Mabel.” She turned so suddenly, some of her coffee slipped a bit over the side of her cup. “Do you realize that since you retired from your sleuthing, there hasn’t been one murder here in Parson’s Cove?”
I stared at her. Flori Flanders has been my best friend since we were both five years old. That means sixty-plus years. She is the sweetest person in the world and would never do or say anything that might even hint at hurting someone’s feelings.
“What exactly are you saying, Flori? That I was the force behind all those crimes?”
A look of sheer horror crossed her face.
“Oh, my, Mabel. Never. Never would I think such a thing.” Her cheeks turned a bright pink, which took on a real glow when you combined that with her orangey red hair. “How could you even think such a thing?”
“It’s just that you seemed to insinuate that since I stopped trying to solve murders, there haven’t been any. I assumed you meant that when I was, there were.”
The horror changed to confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mabel. I was simply saying that since you’ve retired from being a detective, the criminals have stayed away. It was a compliment. I mean, really, do the criminals know that you’ve retired? No, but they know your reputation.”
I was about to comment on her choice of words when the door opened and Reg Smee walked in. Beth, his wife, trailed behind carrying a big brown paper bag obviously filled with books.
Reg Smee had been sheriff in Parson’s Cove for more years than many remember. He was a good sheriff too. Not that I always appreciated him. I had my ways and he had his. It wasn’t until he retired the first time and we hired a new sheriff, that I really came to appreciate the old one. Fortunately, Reg returned until he found someone to be his replacement. Now, Jim, one of his former deputies, has assumed that responsibility. I’ve always liked Jim and he’s been doing a fine job. Scully has stayed on as deputy and doesn’t seem to mind being beholding to Jim, his former equal. In fact, I’m sure it suited Scully just fine; he doesn’t have quite the ambition that Jim has.
Years ago, Reg made the decision to give Jim and Scully a second chance. For some reason, he saw potential that no one else in Parson’s Cove did. In fact, the town was in quite an uproar when Sheriff Reg Smee took the two on as deputies. Since then, they have proven themselves many times over and the naysayers have nothing to say. Especially if they’re the ones who locked themselves out and needed someone to pick the lock. Or, if they have to hotwire a car really fast. Not sure if many have needed that service but they say Scully can hotwire a car in less than three minutes.
“Reg,” I said. “There seems to be something wrong with this picture.” I looked at him for several seconds and then turned and winked at Beth. “Do you see what I'm getting at?”
The ex-sheriff who, by the way, is now our mayor, which I forgot to mention, looked confused. “What picture?”
He knew he was definitely outranked, surrounded by three women. Flori, on her own, probably outweighed him and Reg was not thin. Since retiring, the pounds had been adding up.
“What picture?” he repeated.
“Reg, look at you. You come waltzing in here with your wife in tow, leaving her to carry a large heavy bag.” I raised my eyebrows. “Is chivalry completely dead?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, that. Well, for your information, she said she wanted to carry that bag of books.”
Beth looked at her husband. “I did?”
He nodded. “Of course. You said, ‘I’m bringing this bag of books for Mabel to put in her store.’”
Beth grinned. “Give up, Mabel. It’s too late to teach that old dog new tricks.” She placed the bag on the counter. “I did bring these books for you. You’re welcome to put them in with all your second-hand books if you want. I’d just recycle them anyway.”
At a quick glance, I could see the books were in excellent shape and all were almost new. More folks were coming in now to stock up on books for the winter. Parson’s Cove usually has a few weeks during the winter when it’s so cold no one dares venture outside. I’m happy when books get recycled, especially if I’m the one doing the recycling. It means a little extra cash.
Book sales were dwindling because all the old folks were starting to buy tablets and laptops. Once they learned how to download free books from Amazon, my sales took a dip. My shop, called Mabel’s Fables and Things, has other merchandise but most of it is for summer tourists. Our little town cozies up to a rather large lake. Cabins ranging in size from tiny to gargantuan surround the lake. Locals own most of them and rent them for the summer but city people own the luxurious ones. All of us complain about the tourists, but we make sure they don’t hear us because it’s their money that sees us through the winter.
“Thanks, Beth. I appreciate them. Can you stay and have a cup of coffee?”
Reg piped up, “That’s what we came for, Mabel. Those books were just an excuse.”
For some reason, both Reg and Flori got a kick out of that so they had a good laugh. Beth and I smiled and I went to get their coffee.
I don’t like to brag but everyone in Parson’s Cove loves my coffee. For the past thirty-five years or more, I’ve used the same coffeemakers - glass carafes. And they have served me well. I have two glass Pyrex coffee percolators that I put on a two-burner hotplate. I place a wire thingy on each element and the glass has never as much as cracked.
My coffee is also free; h
owever, since I have only two chairs in my shop and my shop is quite small, it really discourages anyone from coming by and staying for very long. No one wants to walk up and down my two narrow aisles trying to balance a full cup of coffee.
Just to show you how indestructible those pots are - not long ago my store almost burned to the ground but the two Pyrex coffee makers came out unscathed. Now if that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.
Flori and Beth sat in the chairs. I always leave one for Flori since she’s the one who donated them after the fire. Reg pulled up a wooden crate and sat on it and I stood, leaning on my counter. There isn’t anything quite as comforting as knowing you have wonderful friends. Sunshine streamed in through the windows and the aroma of good coffee and laughter filled the air. What more could anyone desire?
All this relaxing and loveliness, however, was beginning to make me antsy. Even retired sleuths must never let their guard down.
Chapter Two
After Flori, Reg, and Beth left, I was busy most of the afternoon. In fact, I didn’t even stop for lunch. My cats were not happy when I finally opened the back door at five-thirty. Now I have only four felines to argue with. At one time, cats filled my house. Actually, originally, I only wanted one. No, I really didn’t want any. It was Flori who insisted I needed a companion.
My goodness, I’d lived by myself since my father passed away many years ago but since she had a husband, kids, and grandkids galore, she always felt that I must be lonely.
Funny how we each feel sorry for the other person. I wouldn’t trade my spinsterhood for a life with Jake Flanders for anything in the world. Or for any of their offspring, for that matter. Most of them have only caused her heartache and now she’s dealing with delinquent grandchildren. No, for me, I prefer the uncomplicated simple life.
Philip was my first kitten. Philip ended up having a batch of kittens, so his name quickly changed to Phyllis. I couldn’t get rid of her friend, the old Tom, so I took him and all the rest of the brood to a vet and had them all ‘taken care of.’ Since then, Tom has decided to go back to living in the alley behind the Main Street cafe. He never did like my generic dried cat food. By then, the kittens were full-grown cats.
A young couple living in Beulah Henry’s old cabin took two of them because they had so many mice. So, now I’m down to four: Phyl and three of her children.
I don’t mean to sound blasé when I speak of Beulah Henry. She was the first black woman murdered in Parson’s Cove. Everyone, including Sheriff Reg Smee, thought she’d slipped on the ice and hit her head. Beulah, I knew, was too smart for that. Someone had pushed her. I especially remember Beulah because hers was the first murder I ever solved. After that, it seemed natural for me to step in and help with other cases. Flori, of course, has always been ready to help. Once in awhile, even willingly.
Most people in Parson’s Cove wonder how Flori and I ever became and remained friends. When we were children, it was a matter of survival. I’ve always been very petite and Flori has always been the opposite. No one dared pick on Mabel Wickles when Flori Flanders was close by.
On the other hand, Flori came from a very large noisy family and she appreciated coming to my house after school so she could sit in peace and quiet to do her homework. That is, as long as my mother wasn’t home.
Mother rarely was there because we owned a store, so she and my father were usually working. It’s the same building where I have my shop. My father sold groceries while I sell knick-knacks and books.
Mother made Flori nervous so I always had to go inside to check first to see if the coast was clear. If she arrived unexpectedly and came in the back door, Flori flew out the front door. Neither of us ever thought our families were dysfunctional.
“Okay, cats,” I yelled. “Figure out which way you want to go.” I was holding the door open while they swarmed me. All of them were talking at once and by the sounds of it, they were complaining. “I know you didn’t have your lunch,” I tried to explain. “If you’d please make up your mind whether you’re going in or out, I’ll get your food ready for you much quicker.”
I’m not sure if they really do understand English but as soon as I say ‘food,’ they seem to know exactly what to do. They all made a mad dash to their food bowls. I keep the dishes in my pantry, which used to be a small bedroom. I’m glad it’s as big as it is because their litter boxes are in the same room. I reached up, pulled down the bag of cat food from the cupboard, and filled the bowls to overflowing. All the while, the cats never stopped telling me about their day. It sounded as if they had been in the final throes of starvation before I walked in the door.
I finally escaped to the kitchen and started to prepare my own dinner. The phone rang as I was about to take my first mouthful of macaroni and cheese. This is not the store-bought variety. This is Flori’s famous recipe. Cream, butter, three kinds of cheese, and a hint of soya sauce are the secret ingredients.
I checked out ‘caller id’ before picking up. It was Flori. I’m not sure why I even check anymore because she’s the only one who calls right at dinnertime. Flori is the one who talked me into the fancy phone, although I was considering doing some updating myself. My young friend, Nathan Horne, showed me his phone. He called it a smart phone and after showing me everything it could do, I believed him. I wasn’t sure what Flori would think of that but since I now had a laptop, it seemed natural that I’d upgrade in the phone department too.
“Mabel,” she yelled in my ear. “Do you know who’s planning on coming to town?”
“Is this a rhetorical question because you know I have no idea who’s coming to town, right?”
She giggled. “Could you try to guess?”
“Flori, I’m sitting down to a plate of your macaroni and cheese. I really want to get back to it as soon as possible. I could guess until midnight and not figure out who’s coming to town.”
“I’ll give you a clue. This person grew up close to Parson’s Cove, went to college, and became a very important person.”
I sighed. “How important?”
“He became a doctor.”
“A famous doctor?”
My dear friend hesitated. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Flori, to be really important, he would have had to discover a cure for cancer or something like that. What important thing did this person do?”
I waited a moment or two to let her think.
“Well, I guess he isn’t all that important but I thought you’d guess right away. Not many from the Parson’s Cove area even become doctors. So, for your information, it’s Merlin Cowel’s nephew.”
Merlin Cowel runs the pharmacy across the street from my shop. I had no idea he even had a nephew.
“I don’t know Merlin Cowel’s nephew, Flori.”
“Of course, you do. It’s his sister’s boy. Remember? They used to live out in the country. Across from those hillbillies.”
“Hillbillies? You mean those people who used to live way back in the bush some place?”
“Yes, those were the hillbillies. See, I knew you knew who it was.”
“Flori, that was years ago.” I cleared my throat. “If that’s all you have to tell me, Flori, I’d really like to get back to my supper. If Jake is going out tonight, why don’t you come over? I have about three bottles of Sadie MacIntosh’s chokecherry wine left.”
There was a gasp. “Mabel, we can’t drink three bottles of wine tonight.”
“No, we’ll only drink one. Or, part of one. It’s the least we can do in Sadie’s memory.”
Sadie MacIntosh passed away several weeks ago. Of natural causes, I might add. I would truly miss her. She used to bring in jars of preserves and ask me to sell them for her. In exchange, she kept me stocked in wine. Her preserves were terrible because they were so tart but her wine was excellent. I didn’t want her to think that no one wanted her jams and jellies so I’d take them home and dump them out. Then I’d give her the jars back so she’d keep making more, which meant
more wine for me.
Flori started to sniffle. “That’s true. We should do something in her memory. I wish we could’ve bought a big gravestone for her. That little marker was so small.” With that, she started to cry. I waited until she was finished.
“Flori, that’s what she wanted. It was in her Will. You can’t just go and do things against her will, you know.”
“No, I guess not. It’s a shame though.” She blew her nose. “What time should I come over?”
I glanced over at my plate of cold mac and cheese. “Come about seven.”
Flori arrived ten minutes early. She’d changed from her autumn-like attire of oranges and greens during the day to turquoise pants with a matching jacket. Although it was warm during the day, the evenings were starting to get chilly. Her gold loop earrings dangled from her ears to her shoulders and she had three matching hoops on her wrist. She’d exchanged her rust-colored lipstick for a bright pink but the eyebrows stayed the same -light auburn. Her unruly orange locks hid some of her brow.
“How come you’re all dressed up just to come over to see me?” I asked. It was a foolish question but I always ask. I’m hoping that someday she’ll slap on a pair of jeans like I do and feel comfortable. I’m proud to say I own six pairs of jeans and eight white cotton shirts. Flori thinks I have no idea about fashion at all, which is true, and I think she’s eccentric, which is also true.
We sat in my living room. I have the same furniture that my parents had. There seemed no point in going out and buying new when what I had were perfectly good and as I told Flori, they were comfortable.
For several minutes, we simply sat and savored Sadie’s wine. I was definitely sad that she had died but I was really going to miss the wine supply too.
Sometimes, I prefer a nip of gin but this I have to do in secret because Flori is very much against hard liquor. If she could march down Main Street carrying a placard that said Gin is a Sin, she would. However, I understood because Jake and her boys were, and still are, heavy drinkers. Then there’s Amos Grimm who is our town drunk. Catching a whiff of his breath could turn anyone off alcohol for life.
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