“I hate to even think of it,” Lucy sighed.
“Well, soon after, Norman won the prize and Mrs. Strathclyde was relieved. But then something unusual happened. Anna Hanes had a change of heart. She refused to let Norman walk away with the prize.”
“Why?” Lucy asked.
“I suspect she pieced it together,” Nora said. “Perhaps she’d seen Mrs. Strathclyde speaking to Norman earlier or she somehow figured out that the whole Bingo Night had been rigged. More likely, though, is that Claudia told her something.”
“Claudia?”
“Yes, Claudia. I think Claudia uses marijuana as a painkiller for her arthritis, like many people do these days. Claudia probably told Anna Hanes, who also had arthritis, that Norman was her dealer.”
“Why would that make Anna change her mind?” May Almand asked.
“I think Anna connected the dots,” Nora said. “When she went to Colorado with Mrs. Strathclyde, the car’s suspension wasn’t weighted down. The car was easier to get into and out of because it stood taller. However, when she came back from Colorado with Mrs. Strathclyde, the car was weighted down with the amount of marijuana hidden in it. That’s why Anna Hanes found it harder to climb out.”
“Mrs. Strathclyde was smuggling marijuana?!” Lucy’s eyes were wide.
Nora nodded. “I think she’s been in the business for a while. Fits, doesn’t it? Poor Jane Seymour leaves Wyoming and rich Mrs. Strathclyde returns. Only nobody knows how she made all of her money. Nobody would suspect a sweet old lady of smuggling drugs across state lines, either. Well, nobody until Anna Hanes.”
“What then?”
“I think Anna Hanes couldn’t sleep that night,” Nora said. “She’d put Norman off, but she was dying with curiousity. So she got up in the middle of the night and her conscience made her come first to your door, Mrs. Dobbs. I think she meant to apologize for how she’d treated you. Only she lost her nerve when Sparky barked and, so, she headed off to the square instead.”
“And when she reached it?”
“When she reached it, she found Mrs. Strathclyde standing with a knife in hand, about to tear apart the interior in order to give Norman the hidden drugs,” Nora said. “That explains the knife. Mrs. Strathclyde didn’t mean it as a murder weapon, she just happened to have it handy when the need arose.”
Lucy put a hand over her mouth. Horror was written on her face.
“Well, Anna Hanes confronted them. At some point, she must have turned to face Norman. That was when Mrs. Strathclyde plunged the blade into her back, killing her,” Nora sighed. “Poor Mrs. Hanes. She was a good woman, really. Just not a very nice woman.”
“Poor Anna,” May agreed solemnly.
“Then, as soon as Strathclyde killed Anna, she ran away, back to her own home,” Nora said. “It’s really close to the square and, as you can remember, it’s next to Claudia’s house.”
Lucy Dobbs nodded. “And Norman panicked?”
“That’s right,” Nora said. “He panicked and probably froze before coming to his senses and running. He was the yellow raincoat you saw escaping down the alley. We’ll have a confession out of him in no time, I’m sure.”
The door opened and Sean walked in. His eyes lit up with triumph as he looked at the three women. “He’s confessed,” Sean said. “Norman is just a stooge, though. He’s working for Jerry Antony and Mrs. Strathclyde. They knew I was keeping a very close eye on Jerry, which is why Mrs. Strathclyde created this convoluted method of passing on the drugs to Norman, who’d then hand it to Jerome. Of course, she could have just sold Norman the car for a cheap price, but then there would be a direct connection between the two of them if the drugs were ever found. She was too smart to allow that chance. So she figured out a way to get someone else to hand the car over to him. Goodness, she was the last person I’d have expected to be involved in this sort of thing.”
“Evil comes in all forms,” Lucy said, with a sigh. “Will you arrest her tonight, Sheriff?”
“I’ve already sent my deputies to her house,” Sean said. “She’ll spend the rest of her life in jail, no doubt.”
*****
Epilogue
Sadly, Mrs. Strathclyde did not spend the rest of her life in jail. By the time the deputies found her, she’d already consumed most of a bottle of pills that let her drift into a deep and painless death. The town of Milburn was shocked enough to lose such a prominent citizen. But a bigger shock awaited them when Sean arrested Jerry Antony on charges of drug-smuggling.
“The sheriff is quite the hero, now,” Tina said with a smile, as she dished up a plate of pumpkin pie to Harvey. Harvey folded his sleeves and dug in, occasionally giving out little “mmm”s of satisfaction. “I heard he’s going to get a medal at the next State Police conference.”
“He deserves it, too,” Nora said. “He managed to make the bust without injuring a single person and he managed to get some names that will help the State Police.”
“Well, I still think he should break that medal in half and give you a piece,” Harvey smiled. “But I suppose you don’t want medals, do you?”
“I’ve got something better,” Nora smiled. “Mrs. Dobbs offered to share her family’s ancient recipe for the perfect Thanksgiving turkey with me.”
“Now that’s worth more than some old medal,” Harvey smiled. “I can’t wait to dig into it.”
“I’m so glad you cleared Mrs. Dobbs’ name,” Tina said. “And I’m glad she’s back as president of the ladies’ club, too.”
“So, wait, I forgot if you told me this - Mrs. Dobbs didn’t steal that money from the collection box, right?” Harvey asked.
Nora shook her head. “Claudia James admitted to stealing that money. She found the key in Anna’s house when she went to water her plants.”
“The richest woman in town, stealing money from a collection box,” Harvey shook his head. “People will never cease to surprise me.”
“Well, despite being well-off, her husband is apparently quite stingy and kept track of every penny. Plus, when she’d first mentioned the benefits of medical marijuana to him after learning about it, he’d read her the riot act, telling her that no wife of his would ever be a ‘pothead’. But she was desperate for some relief. So, she stole the money and found a way to obtain some of the drug without him ever knowing. She baked the marijuana into peanut butter cookies, which her husband hates! All in all, I can’t blame her. Chronic pain can become an all-consuming demon,” Nora said. “She feels terrible about the whole ordeal.
“I hope she can find something to help her, now that everything has come to a head. It’s just too bad your peanut butter cookies don’t offer any benefits to arthritis. They’re the best in the world!” Tina said.
Nora smiled.
Harvey raised his cup of coffee as though he were toasting her. “Can I just say that I’m really glad you went to the police this time? I almost expected you to barge into Mrs. Strathclyde’s house and confront her yourself.”
Nora blushed. “I never do that!”
“You’ve had more showdowns with killers than a sheriff in an old west town,” Harvey teased.
“Oh, you!” Nora swatted him on the forearm and turned back to the kitchen, bringing out a pot of coffee to refill his cup.
The diner’s door opened, and May Almand walked in with a casserole dish in her hands. Tina and Nora both looked startled.
“You dropped this off at Lucy’s the other day,” May said. “I thought it only fair I return it to you full.”
“Thanks, May,” Nora smiled. “What’s in it?”
May slid back the cover a little, revealing a ground beef and mushroom casserole with a crust of breadcrumbs on top.
“Well! That’s dinner for the week!” Nora said happily.
“Speak for yourself, I’m going to finish that in a day,” Harvey laughed. “Thanks, May.”
“You can’t leave just yet,” Nora said as May tried to leave. “I’ve got this new burger recipe I th
ought you might enjoy!”
Outside, a bitter wind blew, announcing the arrival of winter. Inside, however, there was warmth and joy. And for Nora, that was all she needed.
For now…
THE END (of Death On Bingo Night & “A Murder In Milburn”)
Continue to begin Nora’s sequel series, “Return To Milburn”, set 25 years after the previous stories…
RETURN TO MILBURN…25 Years Later
A Sequel Series To “A Murder In Milburn”
BOOK 1:
Berry The Dead
By
Nancy McGovern
Chapter 1
Happy 55th!
The first birthday Nora could really remember was her 6th — a marvelous occasion when she’d been given her first real bicycle with no training wheels. She’d also eaten half a ton of delicious walnut brownies. The brownies had been her idea. She wasn’t a big fan of cutting cake, as her rowdy classmates always tended to smoosh it into each other’s faces. So she’d asked her mother for a small mountain of brownies instead, and it had worked out brilliantly. Even at six years old, when normal kids loved playing around in the mud, Nora had been a stickler for cleanliness.
A birthday had really meant something back then — an occasion when the shy Nora would blossom and grandly distribute pencils or candy to each of the kids in her class, feeling like a benevolent fairy. Then, sometime around her early teens, celebrating her birthdays with an actual party had stopped feeling cool and then, from her twenties on, it had mostly meant having a nice meal with a few friends. It wasn’t until her daughters were born that grand birthday celebrations came back into Nora’s life again. Decking the house up with streamers and balloons, making all sorts of fancy cakes, hanging up fairy lights, it was all so wonderful. Then, first Grace and then Hazel had descended into the chaos of their own teenage years and, like Nora, they began to think of parties as “uncool”. Soon enough parties, once again, faded out of her life.
Now it was her fifty-fifth birthday, and Nora was parked outside her house, ready to go in. Twenty five years and the pretty red-brick house still looked as cozy as it had the day she and Harvey had bought it. Nora paused a moment to admire the house that had become their home. She had dinner plans with Harvey in an hour so, really, she ought to be rushing. But, if the years had taught her anything, it was the importance of stopping to smell the flowers once in a while. She took a breath and tilted her head this way and that, wondering if it were time to paint the window frames again.
“Nora!” A beat up Toyota pulled up behind her and a window rolled down. Surprised, Nora got out. She walked up to the passenger door and peered into the car. Zoey, Nora’s housekeeper, was tapping the wheel nervously. It was a messy car, with a big, brown package on the front seat and a mop, broom and various cleaning supplies in the back.
Nora had hired Zoey more than twenty years ago, when the rush of being a new mother and managing her own diner had become too much for her. Ever since, Zoey had appeared like clockwork at 3pm on Mondays and Thursdays, helping lend a little order to the house. Zoey had doubled as a babysitter sometimes, and Nora’s daughters had both been very fond of her. Still, funnily enough, in all those years Nora had never really talked to her for more than ten minutes at a time. And the last thing she’d expected at 7pm on a Saturday was to see Zoey pull up to her house.
“Hey. Are you okay?” Nora tried to sound unconcerned, and failed.
Zoey seemed flustered. Her hair, which was normally done up in a rigid bun, was half-loose, and her dark eyes were skittering this way and that, distracted. She rubbed the back of her neck and opened her mouth, then shut it.
“Can we talk?” Zoey asked, finally. “I mean, if it’s not too inconvenient.”
“Of course!” Nora said. “What’s the matter?”
“That’s the thing. I’m not entirely sure there is a matter.” Zoey sighed. “I’m just being an idiot, probably. Maybe I’m overreacting totally. But…maybe I’m not.”
“Okay, look,” Nora checked her watch, “I have to meet my husband for dinner in an hour, but why don’t you come inside for some coffee? We can talk it over.”
“I don’t know…” Zoey hesitated, then nodded. “Actually, you know what? I’d like that very much. I think you, of all people, would know the right thing to do. I mean, I don’t want to make a fool of myself. I even thought of going to the police, but...”
“The police?” Nora’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Taking Zoey’s elbow, she firmly ushered her to the main door and pulled the storm door open. “Let’s go inside, sit down and talk it over.” Nora liked Zoey, and she’d never seen her like this. Her diligent housekeeper was usually cheerful — always on a diet, always a little gossipy and always in control. Zoey was one of those square-shouldered women who went out into the world and made it a little better. So for her to look as if she was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, well, Nora was determined to find out why.
Nora turned the key in the lock and opened the front door. There was a flash of light as she stepped in and cries of “Happy Birthday!” Nora stood stunned for a minute, then clapped her hands to her mouth.
Everyone important in her life was here. Just for her! She spotted Tina and Simone in one corner, along with their husbands, Sam and Jake. She gave a gasp of surprise to see Mrs. Mullally, in a wheelchair with a blanket covering her legs, but her eyes bright as ever.
“How...” she began, but was cut off when the crowd began singing to her. Harvey and her two daughters, meanwhile, approached her, wheeling along a table with a mountain of brownies on it.
“Happy Birthday, Mama!” Grace, Nora’s older daughter, gave her a bone-crunching hug, while her younger daughter, Hazel, smiled and clapped along with the singing crowd.
“Hey, I get a kiss, too,” Harvey said. “Happy Birthday, wifey. I know you wanted a quiet day of it, but we decided we’d do things in style this year!”
Nora shook her head, her smile radiant. “Thank you,” she managed. “You remembered…about the brownies.”
“How could we not? Now come on and blow out that candle! We’re all hungry!” Hazel patted her stomach.
“Happy birthday, darling!” Tina, Nora’s co-owner at the Madness Diner, approached. She had her hair cut in a smart bob and highlighted to cover any silver strands. She kissed Nora on both cheeks with a big smack and handed her a wrapped gift. “To the best partner I could ever have asked for! And the best friend, too.”
The evening passed in a pleasant blur, with never a moment to pause and think. Nora was especially pleased to see her former landlady, Mrs. Mullally.
“It was Grace’s idea to have me.” Mrs. Mullally smiled. “Very kind of her, too. I didn’t think she’d remember an old biddy like me.”
“Oh, knock it off, Mrs. M! You’re the closest thing to a grandmother we’ve ever had.” Grace seated herself on the arm of the wheelchair and gave her a tight hug.
“Careful, don’t hurt her!” Nora exclaimed.
“You worry too much, Mom!” Grace grinned. “Mrs. Mullally is strong as an ox, isn’t that right?”
“For a ninety two year old? Yes, indeed.” Mrs. Mullally smiled.
“She can still beat me in arm-wrestling.” Mrs. Mullally’s nephew, Tom Shepherd, grinned and winked at her.
“To me you’re still the same little toddler running around in diapers, creating messes everywhere.” Mrs. Mullally laughed. “Tom was the naughtiest child I ever did see, you know. Still is.”
“He’s a child, alright. We should call him Peter Pan.” This comment came from Tom’s wife, Ronnie, whose face was twisted in a scowl. She held a glass of wine in her hand, and drained it. “I’ve got to check up on the kids,” she said, excusing herself from the others. There was a brief moment of awkward silence as Nora met Mrs. Mullally’s eyes. Tom’s chin went down and his eyebrows knitted together.
Changing the subject, Mrs. Mullally chirped, “But I heard you had surgery since I last saw you, Nora dear. Is everyt
hing alright now? I know you don’t tell me these things anymore because you think I’ll be upset! But honestly—”
Upset! Remembering Zoey suddenly, Nora looked around but her housekeeper had apparently slipped out silently amid the ruckus. For a moment, Nora wondered if she should run out and look for her. Then, before she could make a move, she was once again engulfed in conversation.
“Well?” Mrs. Mullally asked. “What happened to you?”
“Oh, that…” Nora looked down at her hands and sighed. She’d developed carpal tunnel syndrome in her wrists a few years back — a common injury for longtime chefs. She’d put off getting the surgery for as long as she could, until the pain had become too much to bear.
“The perks of getting old, I suppose.” Nora sighed, rubbing her wrists and still thinking of Zoey.
“Old? Pshaw! You’re 55! That’s middle-aged, not old. From where I stand, you’re practically a baby!” Mrs. Mullally said. “You’ve got a whole lot of life left in you, sweetie. No matter what all the ads and media say. Good years, too.”
Nora nodded, “I hope so.”
“A toast to you, then.” Tina appeared with glasses of champagne in her hands, and passed them around. “May the next fifty-five years be as…interesting…as the last.”
“Oho, interesting.” Grace took a sip. “You know that’s an old Chinese curse, Aunt Tina? May you live in interesting times. Not good, interesting.”
“Hard to imagine mom’s life being very interesting,” Hazel joked, wrinkling her nose and trying to grab a glass of champagne for herself. At twenty, she thought anyone above thirty was a dinosaur.
“Uh-uh.” Grace wagged a finger at her sister and pulled the champagne out of her reach. “Not just yet! You’re still too young for that, little lady.”
“Oh, come on! I’m turning twenty-one in three months!” Hazel protested. “Some alcohol is okay this once, right Mom?”
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