Cool Demise

by Stanley Sauerwein

  “Of course you will.” Jean offered a pained smile and shut her door. Have I pushed too hard? What if I’m putting myself in harm’s way? Glacier sure has changed since I was here as a kid. Or maybe this dark side was here all along, and I just didn’t see it.

  Nancy was right. Muriel practically insisted on helping after I told her Jean was spreading the word for me. Without asking, she pinned my poster on the post office bulletin board herself.

  “Dr. Santos was poisoned,” I said.

  Muriel froze at the board and then turned towards me. “How do you know that?”

  “The chief. Apparently, he thinks I was the last person to see the doc alive. He thinks someone came in after me and gave the doc poisoned carrot cake.”

  “My Lord.” Muriel had one hand over her mouth. “I hadn’t heard that.” She stared blankly into space. “Carrots.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Carrots.” She wheeled away towards her counter. “Whoever did it must have bought lots of carrots.”

  “Everybody buys carrots,” I said, following her to the counter.

  “True enough. Could be anyone.” She gave me a weak smile. “I have some sorting to do. I’ll tell everyone who comes in about your reading, dear.” She turned away and disappeared into the back of the post office.

  16

  Bill knocked gently. If it hadn’t been for Su’s hearing, I might not have made it to the door in time to let him in.

  He peeled off his plaid jacket and draped it over a chair in The Grind before he sat down. Judging by the frown on his face, I suspected his news wouldn’t be good.

  “Did you see him?”

  Bill nodded. I’d started leaving a light on at the back of the café but it was still fairly dark and I couldn’t make out his features well. “In the parking lot behind the Long Branch. He didn’t want Allan to see us.”

  “And?” I was tense and alert. “What did he say? Has Allan been bragging?”

  Bill shook his head. “No.”

  I slumped.

  “But he told me some other things.”

  I reached forward and rubbed Bill’s arm. “Do you want a coffee?”

  “I told you. I don’t drink after…”

  “I know. Sorry. Force of habit. What other things?”

  Bill leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Well, he’s been spending money like a drunken sailor.” I winced at hearing the cliché. “Buying everyone drinks. And he’s pretty upset about Doc Santos. More upset about him than his mother even.”

  I sat in silence a moment, pondering what Bill had told me. “Do you think it might have been his mother’s money?”

  Bill shrugged. “His friends wouldn’t ask him, would they? Maybe he’s angry one of his meal tickets was killed. Maybe he expected to keep the blackmail with Dr. Santos going. To pick up the pieces from his mother.”

  I nodded. “Makes sense, I guess. He obviously wouldn’t have poisoned him if that’s the case.” I sighed. “We’re back to square one.”

  Bill let a few moments pass in silence. “How are the preparations for the reading coming?” He gave me one of his scrumptious smiles.

  “It’s a stupid idea. I don’t know if anyone will come and I have no idea what I’m going to read. Nancy thought it would be a good idea to get closer to Jean and Muriel and that’s the only reason I’m doing it at all.” I tugged at the fluff on my housecoat as I spoke, pulling at nothing.

  “At least maybe we can sell some of the books I got in Eugene,” he said, sounding softly supportive.

  I looked up and returned his smile. He said ‘we’. “Getting those books was really kind of you, Bill. Really kind and thoughtful.” I couldn’t clearly see his face but imagined him blushing. “I’ll pay you back every dime.”

  He reached over and covered my fluff-picking mitt with his hand. He squeezed gently and leaned in. I could smell his breath. Cinnamon? And when his lips brushed mine I pushed myself forward to taste him.

  “I really like you, Mel. You’re exciting and even a little crazy with all this crime solving you’re doing.” He paused. “I’m really happy to help you with Bookmarks.”

  I stiffened. Not because I was scared. More like uncertain. My feelings for Bill came rushing forward unexpectedly and I was immediately cautious, but wanted more at the same time. It was all suddenly confusing. My feelings were a maelstrom caught somewhere between flight and surrender. I returned his kiss. This time long and slow with the purpose of confirming how I felt without words. Then I stood up. “I don’t think I’m ready for this, Bill. I just broke up …”

  “I know,” he said. “Barney told me.” He stood as well. “I’m not trying to be pushy. I only wanted you to know how I feel.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my sincere affection for him in my tone. Then I took a large step away. “I’ve got to get some sleep. There’s a lot to do tomorrow, not the least of which is try to figure out what I should wear to my debut reading.”

  Bill laughed.

  I walked him to the door and he folded his arms around me at the doorway in an incredibly satisfying net of safety. “Well, you have at least one customer coming on Friday.” He hugged me and then lightly brushed my forehead with another kiss. “There’s a thriller I think you may have.”

  I looked up and found myself melting in his gaze. “Come early. I might need a little confidence boost before it gets started.”

  If I had to classify the success of the reading on some kind of scale, I’d put it somewhere between disaster and painful. True to his word, Bill arrived early and helped me get organized. I’d picked two short stories out of my file of them and had them placed in a neat little pile on the stool I was going to use. Bill centered it in front of the display counter and perched the gooseneck lamp so it bathed me and the chair in soft yellow light. Nancy had suggested we do the reading in the café because there was more room for customers in The Grind, but I didn’t expect a big crowd and the intimacy afforded by Bookmarks suited my tense feelings. Somehow I felt safer in the middle of all those old books. It felt more like my space.

  After setting up the stool, Bill cradled me with one arm and guided me through Bookmarks towards the easy chair in the back. He sat me down and then kneeled in front of me with his hands resting on my thighs. “Don’t be so nervous. It will be great. You’ll be great.”

  I gave him my unhappy three-year-old’s frown. “This is stupid,” I said with a forlorn sigh.

  “No, it’s not. It’s a first step to changing this up and you’ll be fine. The people that come will love you and what you’ve written.”

  “I’ll probably only have two people anyway. You and Nancy.”

  “I think you’re wrong. Glacier is a cultural desert. Why do you think the gym does so well? People around here are bored to tears.”

  And Bill was right. As time ticked by The Grind filled with customers and they began to spill over to Bookmarks. Every chair in The Grind was taken so Bill had to move folding chairs from the basement into Bookmarks, stacking them on one wall if they were needed. My nervousness kept building as I realized there were all sorts of people I’d never seen before gathering in the aisles with a mug in their hands, looking at books. The noise of happy conversations wafted into the bookstore from the café and I started to panic.

  Suddenly it wasn’t so much my worry that no one would come as it was my worry they wouldn’t like what I read. Did I pick the right stories? Will people leave in the middle? What if people get up and leave? I’m not a published author! I was standing behind the display counter pretending to be busy, shuffling books, stacking printer paper, and contemplating my escape when Nancy came over.

  “Great turnout, eh? Barney would be green seeing what you’ve done! This is huge, right? You ready?”

  “I’m scared, Nance.”

  “Don’t be silly. Remember the tarot. You’re a lion and it’s time to roar.” She gave me a big smile and then turned to the crowd, inviting The Grind customers to join th
e others in Bookmarks for my reading. Bill’s chairs were quickly unfolded and the space between the bookstore and café filled with expectant faces.

  I’d decided to wear all black with the colorful accent of a filmy pink silk scarf draped over my shoulders. As I sat on the stool I adjusted the scarf around my neck in a kind of Parisian style and welcomed everyone. I gave them my pitch, telling them Bookmarks was changing. It was going to have all sorts of new titles, a kids’ story time reading at 9 am on Saturdays, a ‘one book for two’ exchange program. I said I even planned to invite visiting writers to Glacier. I gave them the whole story. Then I read my short fiction and fielded questions.

  Jean, who’d sat herself smack dab in front of my stool, got the ball rolling with a question about where my writing ideas came from. That was followed by questions about the themes of my shorts, what else I had to read, was a book on the way? I was impressed with the genuine interest being offered and when it was all over, people actually stayed. Some kept Nancy hopping brewing more orders of coffee with Bill’s help, and I mingled with the customers, thanking each for coming.

  A gentle tug on my sleeve had me turn to an older woman in a loose-fitting dress. Her coat was draped over her shoulders and she held her coffee with two hands like an offering. When I smiled, she leaned in towards my ear.

  “I feel so terrible about what’s happened. How’s Barney?”

  My smile drained immediately. “They’ve charged him with murder and moved him to Eugene,” I said with matter-of-fact coolness.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, tightly gripping her cup. “But I had to tell them, didn’t I? I mean, I didn’t know what happened and I had to tell them, didn’t I?”

  I knew instantly who she was. “The truth. You told them the truth.”

  “I did! I saw him leave.”

  “You’re sure about the time, Mrs.…”

  “Olson. Yes, quite sure. It was a little while after supper and I always take my bath after supper. I’m so sorry about Barney though.”

  I nodded and put one hand on her shoulder. “You told the police the truth, right?”

  “Absolutely!” She took a sip of her cold coffee. “I saw him leave and then took my bath like always. I think I heard him come back but I can’t tell for certain because I was in my bubbles and my window doesn’t look over to Utta’s place.”

  I moved in close to her face. “You think he came back? Could you maybe have heard someone else?”

  “I can’t be sure.” She backed up a step. “I was in my bubbles and …”

  “But you heard someone arrive?”

  “Actually, twice. Well maybe twice. I’m sorry. I should have told the chief. Do you think?”

  “You didn’t tell him?” My voice had raised an octave and my hand was now squeezing her shoulder.

  “He only asked about Barney. I was in my bubbles and couldn’t have seen anyway. Does that make a difference, do you think?”

  “It makes a difference, Mrs. Olson. A really big difference.”

  This could be huge! I have to tell the chief first thing in the morning.

  17

  I was surprised. Four mothers showed up at The Grind with their kids in tow by nine in the morning, ready for the story time reading I’d announced the night before. I wasn’t prepared but Nancy seemed to be. She served up hot coffee to our guests and got the children sitting in a circle on the floor in Bookmarks ready to color on computer paper with felt pens as she waited for me to come downstairs.

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t sleep in today,” she said, giggling. “Meet your story time troop.”

  It had been too late after my reading to go to the police station, so I was resolved to do it this morning. That, and to finally face off with Allan. I’d also decided to go to Glacier’s only liquor store and buy Jean a bottle as a thank you token for her help. Because I expected that she’d want to share the gift, I knew I had to see Allan first.

  I read a couple of Robert Munsch books that Bill had in his new pile— Mortimer and Smelly Socks. They were a big hit and even Su seemed to be listening to my animated readings with rapt attention. When I was done, I got them to draw a picture of their favorite part of the books and welcomed the mothers into Bookmarks too. Not surprisingly, the kids prompted their moms to buy books and within minutes I was sold out of my copies.

  It only took fifteen minutes for the store to clear. Afterwards I slipped on some jeans and a floppy college sweatshirt. When I came back downstairs I found both Bill and Nancy counting money.

  “That seemed to work,” I said, pouring myself a coffee.

  “It was fabulous. What do you mean, seemed?” Nancy gushed. “I did a whole day’s worth of sales in an hour!”

  “And I have to go back to Eugene for more kids books!” Bill was beaming.

  “Good idea. I’ll come with and go see Barney,” I said.

  I left them gloating over their booty and found the telephone. I left a message on Uncle Barney’s lawyer’s telephone about what Mrs. Olson told me. I also told him I was going to see the police and tell them as well.

  “She heard another car? She didn’t tell me that!” The chief was practically falling out of his chair as he spoke.

  “Maybe two,” I answered. “Mrs. Olson said she didn’t tell you because you didn’t ask her if she noticed anyone else at Mrs. Podeski’s.”

  The chief frowned, then shook his head and sighed. “She’s right. I stopped asking when she said she saw Barney. She’s right.”

  I wanted to criticize him. I wanted to lash out and chastise him for not being a better cop, for not knowing how to investigate the murder, but I felt sorry for him too. I knew he had no skills or experience to handle something as awful as this. It was all beyond him and I recognized that, so I bit my tongue.

  “Are you going to get a new statement from her?”

  “Of course, I am.” He regained his composure and stared straight into my eyes. “I guess I should call Eugene too and tell them I screwed up. This was important and I let it slip.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Chief,” I soothed. “Heaven knows this whole thing is a whirlwind.”

  “Well, it wasn’t professional.”

  “She only told me because I asked,” I said, smiling. I watched him nod and mentally replay the moment he’d questioned Mrs. Olson. “Will this make any difference for Barney?”

  The chief shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s all inconclusive, Miss Willoughby. Even if she heard another car, or even two, maybe they didn’t stop. Could’ve been traffic on the road. Maybe the cars just drove by. Maybe she imagined them. You said she didn’t get out of the tub to look so there’s no way of telling.”

  “But doesn’t it raise some doubts about Uncle Barney being the last person there?”

  “It might and might not. Like I said, I’ll go talk to her again. Thanks for keeping your eyes open, Ms. Willoughby, and thanks for coming in so fast. You’re turning out to be quite the detective.”

  The chief got up and whispered to his deputy and then left. I was hoping what Mrs. Olson had to say would help more, but it left me no closer to freeing Barney or finding the truth than I had been. In my gut I knew whether the chief believed what Mrs. Olson had to say made any difference or not, it didn’t matter, because I did. I was certain someone else had been there after Barney left. It was simply a matter of finding out who.

  I bought a bottle of expensive sipping whiskey for Jean and returned to The Grind with it. I still had to see Allan before I went to her house and I needed Nancy to boost my courage.

  “What if he gets angry?” I asked. I stirred my coffee nervously and stared out the window at the Lee Hotel across the street. “He kind of scares me, Nancy.” Wearing baggy harem pants with a bright purple batik pattern, Nancy was sweeping the floor between the tables. Her brass Indian anklet chimed, and her painted orange toenails flashed to and fro. In contrast to her carefree attire, her face looked worried and didn’t give me the confidence I was
after. I smiled at her. She was wearing an embroidered cotton blouse, the kind sold in street markets in Mexico. In contrast to her ethnic look, her hair was plaited into two braids that hung to her shoulders and which reminded me of Heidi. “Mountains have no names” popped into my head. Around here you just remember the names of glaciers.

  “Well, you’ll have to meet him in public,” she said, bringing me back. “Call his room and have him meet you in the restaurant. He wouldn’t do anything in public, would he?”

  “Will you come with me? I have an idea I think will get Uncle Barney out of trouble but I’m afraid to do it alone.”

  “What idea?”

  “I think Allan may have killed his mother,” I said with a serious glare. “I have to make him think I know.”

  “Melanie,” Nancy said with a laugh, shaking her head. “You think everyone could have killed her. First you suspected Bill and you decided he didn’t. Then you figured Dr. Santos was the murderer because his alibi had holes. Then it was Pavel Podeski but he was out of town so you decided you believed him too. Now you say it’s Allan. Cripes, Mel, you aren’t investigating anything. You’re just going down the list of suspects.”

  “Agatha Christie said ‘unless you are good at guessing, it is not much use being a detective,’” I said with a pout. “I told myself I had to start thinking like a killer. Allan is the only person on the list with the nature of a murderer. He’s a maniac at getting into trouble. Has been all his life. He threatened me and Su right here in The Grind, remember? And he beat up poor Bill for asking a few questions.”

  “He’s a bit of a nut case all right, but that doesn’t prove anything,” Nancy replied. She stared at me thoughtfully for a few seconds and then curiosity took over. “How would you make him think that you know?”