Mabel, Murder, & Muffins

by Sharon Mierke

  I also didn’t mention the cockroach creeping up the side of the wall and disappearing somewhere behind the window frame.

  There was a breakfast special but before we could say anything, Kyle raised his hand and yelled to the waitress, “Four Specials here.” Then, he turned to us and asked, “You want coffee?” We nodded and he yelled, “Four coffees too, Selma.”

  “Sure thing, Kyle,” she yelled back and that was that. No menus, no asking what we would prefer, nothing. Flori looked a bit flustered but then again, she would never argue with a cop.

  “So, Kyle,” I said, trying to put us more at ease. “You should come and visit Parson’s Cove sometime. Maybe Maxymowich told you, that’s where Flori and I are from. We have a young sheriff not much older than you are. We had an old sheriff but thankfully he's now retired. We could always use another deputy, that's for sure.”

  Kyle laughed. “I’m sure it would be a blast. I’m sort of attached to Yellow Rose though. It’s usually a quiet place. Haven’t had any real bad crime, you know like murders, here in a long time.”

  “What about that li’l girl who was kidnapped awhile back?” Stella said. “An’ that old man who was beat up and had all his money stole?” She glared at him and then looked at me. “I’d say that was some real bad crime, wouldn’t you, Mabel?”

  Before I could try to quell the argument, she continued, “You should live where I live on P ½. I tell you, there’s a crime goin’ on every night on that street.”

  Kyle cleared his throat. “Well, all you gotta do is phone the police, Stella. That’s all you gotta do. We’ll take care of it all.”

  The waitress, a skinny thing with her hair pulled back in a pony tail and with crooked front teeth, brought four cups of steaming coffee on a tray and plunked one in front of each of us. How she did it without spilling was a miracle. There was barely enough room in the cup to add a teaspoon of cream.

  Stella didn’t even take the time to thank the server. “You don’ think I bin doin’ that?” she said to Kyle. “I quit countin’ how many times I dialed 911.”

  “Where you live on P ½ anyway?”

  “On the corner of P ½ and thirty-eighth.”

  “You’re right next door to Cecile Tucker? Heck, woman, you didn’t need to worry at all. He’ll be looking out for y’all.” He grinned and winked.

  Stella glared again. “Yeah? Well, I don’ think I need his kind lookin’ out for me.”

  “What happened last night anyway?” I asked, changing the subject. “Was there really gunshots fired or are you boys trying tell us in a nice way to stay out of your way?”

  He shook his head. “Hey, we don’t go making up stories. ‘Specially when it comes to murder. And, especially that Captain. He’s one serious dude.” He paused for a sip of scalding hot coffee. “Williams called to tell us you were there but by the time we drove down, you were pulling out. That’s when we saw the other car coming so we took off and waited down the street. Saw this guy back into the exact spot you were in, and then after sitting there for a few minutes, he went over to the house. We saw he had his gun drawn so we got out of the car and spread out. I guess he must’ve seen some movement or something because he fired at one of the officers as he was running back to his car. The officer returned fire but neither one got hit. The fellow took off and that’s the last we saw of him.”

  “So, that means he came for someone in that house. Was it a man for sure? I mean, is there a chance it could’ve been a woman?”

  He shook his head. “Naw. It was a man. You could tell by the way he moved.”

  “Could you see what he looked like?”

  “Nope. Too dark. Couldn’t get a license plate number either. All we know is that it was a dark late model car. That’s it.”

  I looked at Stella. I figured she was thinking the same as I was. That matched the description of Hatcher’s car and the stranger’s car - the man at Cecile’s house. Just down the road on P½ .

  Our breakfast arrived: three fried eggs, three fried sausages, three pieces of slightly undercooked bacon, a pile of slightly burned hash browns, and toast saturated with butter. On a separate plate, there were three medium-sized pancakes served with three packets of butter on the side and a pitcher of hot maple syrup. I guess everyone in Yellow Rose must take their eggs over-easy, their bacon dripping with grease, and white bread, toasted, because every plate was identical. There wasn’t an inch of space left on the table. If I would’ve thought about the cholesterol and sodium content, I would have had a heart attack right then and there.

  We ate in silence for the next ten minutes. It wasn’t that our eating was silent; it’s just that there was no conversation.

  After our first coffee refill, Kyle said, “So, I don’t understand why you came down here, Mabel and Flori. I don’t think that Captain of yours… What’s his name again?… Maxymowich? … was too happy about it all.” He looked up at us over his cup. “In case you didn’t know, he doesn’t have any jurisdiction down here. Obviously, he could’ve gotten the info he needed by phone, so it seems he headed down here to make sure you two left town. Maybe he was worried that you’d screw up the case. Or more'n likely worried you might get shot.”

  “He doesn’t have any jurisdiction down here?” I asked. “You mean, he can’t come down here and arrest somebody?”

  “Nope, that’s up to the folks in Texas now to catch these crooks.”

  “That’s interesting.” I drained the last of my coffee. “So, really, then, Flori and I could do more good solving a murder down here than he could?”

  Flori’s eyes got big and she looked like she was sipping on a straw, except she didn’t have a straw, but she didn’t speak.

  Kyle pulled a toothpick out of his shirt pocket, picked off the lint, and stuck it in his mouth. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. We don’t like ordinary folk getting involved in crime fighting. It’s a dangerous sport to get mixed up in, that’s for sure. Besides, we got this one pretty much figured out anyway.”

  All three of us stared at him.

  “You do?” I said. “You know who murdered Grace? Or, Andrea, or whoever she was?”

  He shifted in his seat. “Well, that we don’t know yet. But, this whole thing has to do with drugs and gambling. Cecile’s been working undercover for years.”

  “Pardon me,” I interrupted. “You said that Cecile was working undercover? You mean the person who lives next door to Stella? The creep who looks like a convict? He’s a cop?”

  He nodded. “That’s why he’s so good at it. Nobody suspects. He lives the part. Gets in there, real mean and dirty. Been doing this for years. His cover’s been blown now so I imagine he and Grace will be moving on. Some other city, some other crime scene, some other name…”

  “Just a minute, Kyle. You know that the Grace Hobbs who was murdered was not his wife? She was somebody named Andrea.”

  “Well, sure. That’s right.” He shook his head as if trying to erase something from his brain and then yelled, “Time for some coffee refills here, Selma.”

  “Well, sure? That’s all you’re going to say? What’s going on here, Kyle? Flori and I came all this way to find out who killed Grace Hobbs, only to find out she’s not Grace at all. I think the least you can do is fill us in on a few things. Like, are all of you just plain crazy or is there some sense to this?”

  We all stopped talking while Selma filled our cups, pulled a handful of creamers from her pocket, placed them on the table, and cleared away our plates. She started with two plates in her hand and she lined all the rest up from there to her shoulder.

  “So?” I asked, when I saw Selma disappear behind the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

  “So, I have to say this was a tough one.” He reached for four sugar packets and proceeded to add them, one at a time, to his coffee.

  “Thank the Lord, we don’t lose good officers too often,” he continued. He started stirring his coffee. “Still can’t figure it out.” He shook his head. “Sh
e was always right on her game. Things can happen when you’re in the line of fire. Go wrong, you know. Gotta be prepared for the worst. All the time. You just never know.” He kept stirring.

  Flori was trying not to weep and at the same time, looking a bit confused because she really had no idea for what or whom she should be weeping.

  “Could you explain that a little more?” I said. “What do you mean, ‘line of fire’? What do you mean - lose good officers?”

  “Well, here’s all I can tell you: Andrea Williams infiltrated that gang because Cecile Tucker recommended her and Hatcher fell for it.”

  Flori gasped. “See, Mabel. Her last name was Williams. I thought it would be. That’s why she had to take on a whole new name.”

  Kyle laughed. “Yeah, that’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it? Imagine two women with the same name.”

  “So, that’s why Andrea changed her name to Grace Hobbs? Because she would’ve had the same name as the other woman on the trip? How come when I went to look for her number in the phone book, I ended up at Cecile Tucker’s house?”

  “Well, for one thing Cecile'd never use his name. I think it was from the person who lived there before.”

  Stella leaned forward. “There was somethin’ funny going on there when Cecile and Grace moved in. I think they might’ve done something to that nice young woman who used to live there.”

  “No,” Kyle said. “That was Ginger Hobbs and she moved on. Got shot in the knee or something, if I remember correct.”

  “Wouldn’t Hatcher have known Cecile’s wife?” I asked.

  “Hatcher knew Cecile real good but Cecile kept Grace out of the scene as best he could. Don’t know if any of them did business when Grace was around.”

  “What about Grace, the wife? Where does she fit in?”

  “We never had Cecile and Grace work together. They just do that in the movies. No, when it was time to start closing in, Cecile said he wanted another undercover agent to infiltrate. By this time, everybody trusted him so that’s when we called in Andrea. She’s been doing undercover for years.”

  “How long was Cecile working on this anyway, Kyle?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “A long time. I remember thinking Cecile was a drug dealer when I got on the Force. Guess it must be almost three years now.”

  “Is it okay that you’re telling us this?”

  He laughed. “It’ll be plastered all over the news within the next few days, I’m sure. You know, big crime bust. Probably say that Cecile Tucker has been put away for the next twenty years. That means Cecile and Grace will be pulling out. Hate to see them go. It was kinda fun, treating him like a crook. Y’know, bashing him up once in awhile.” He grinned.

  “You’re being really quiet,” I said to Stella. “What do you think of all this?”

  She shook her head. “I don’ know. Some things still don’ add up for me.”

  “Well, I’m glad it’s coming to its end. But, just think, Stella, you don’t have to worry about Cecile anymore. Too bad about Andrea though.”

  “Yeah,” Kyle said. “Seemed like this one should be an easy bust after taken’ so long but instead it ended up in tragedy.” He started stirring his coffee again. “Still can’t figure out what went wrong. Course, nobody tells me too much. Probably that Captain, Maxymowich, knows more than I do. One thing I do know, the drugs went through okay and Andrea collected the gambling money. Cecile made sure of that. He followed them all the way to Las Vegas. Said he always had her back. Then, he lost Andrea in Denver. Suddenly, she just disappeared. Doesn’t know where she went or who she went with. Next thing you know, her body’s found in some little town somewhere.” He cleared his throat, pulled out a tissue and blew his nose. “Yes, sir. Sure is tough when you lose one of yer own.”

  I gave him a second or two to get the handle on his emotions and re-establish his macho image. That’s about all the time it took too. Flori, however, was having a harder time but I ignored her. Stella sat, looking like she was still in a state of shock.

  “Okay, Kyle,” I said. “For the last time, let’s see if I have this straight. You’re saying Andrea Williams was an undercover cop, and that she took on the name, Grace Hobbs. Cecile, who is married to a different Grace, is also an undercover cop.”

  “That’s about it. As far as Hatcher and his associates knew, Cecile Tucker and Grace Hobbs, were both into the drug and gambling scene.”

  “Does that mean that Grace Tucker was an undercover cop too?”

  “She used to be a cop up north some place. Seems to me that’s where the two met. She knew Cecile was undercover but she lived the life. It’s a rough life, you know. Never knowing what’s going to happen next. Never knowing if your husband will come home alive. Having to stay away at times so as not to interfere when deals are going down. Not something I could put my wife through. Was she still a cop? Well, she obviously couldn’t walk the beat anymore but she did work sometimes. Nothing ever to do with Cecile and his assignment though.”

  “Okay, so who’s the other Andrea Williams then? The real one who went to Las Vegas? Or, was she real?”

  He moved the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “Ha! The real one? Oh yeah, she’s the real McCoy all right. She’s a tough one, that one. We’ve been waiting a long time to catch old Hatcher and Williams. Them and Cecile were the ones involved in the drug trafficking and gambling. They started trusting Cecile and he brought in Andrea. Or, Grace, as they knew her.”

  Stella spoke up. “Must be a real poplar name, that one. There’s another girl named Andrea Williams livin’ here in Yellow Rose.”

  Kyle laughed. “You mean, old Veronica’s girl? Yeah, that’s another Andrea Williams, except I think she’s married now. Maybe not. She run off with some old guy a while back. I don’t know how many times we got called over to that house. Mama and daughter almost killing each other.” He laughed again. “Talk about cat fights.”

  “I don’t think that’s very funny, Kyle,” Stella said. “It’s a downright shame when family’s don’ get along. How ‘bout you? You get along with your momma, Kyle?”

  Kyle seemed to have hit a sore spot with Stella so I thought I’d make an effort at redirecting the conversation.

  “You have any idea why the body ended up in Parson’s Cove?”

  He shook his head. “That’s a mystery.”

  “Well, that and who killed Andrea Williams and why they killed her? Yes, I guess it is quite a mystery, Kyle.”

  He slid out of the booth and stood up. Maybe the Captain gave him money to pay for our breakfast; whatever, he said our money was no good so we didn’t argue. We followed him outside.

  “There’s really no point in you driving half a block to our hotel,” I said. “We can walk that far. I’m sure the Captain won’t mind.”

  Kyle grinned. “I don’t know, Mabel. He said to watch you like a hawk.”

  “What about Flori and Stella? What did he say about them?” “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  “What time does that shuttle come to pick us up, Flori?”

  “Not for another two hours, Mabel, but you know what the Captain said. We aren’t to leave the hotel. And, this time, we’re going to listen to him. We’re not going anywhere. Right, Stella?”

  Flori and Stella were sitting on the one bed, watching an old black and white movie on the movie channel.

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we took a walk along the beach. It’s kind of sad to spend the last couple of hours here, glued to the television. I mean, we can do that in Parson’s Cove, Flori. We might never see the Gulf of Mexico again.”

  “You heard what he said. And, Kyle, too. Kyle would be very disappointed if you left the room. You promised him you wouldn’t, didn’t you?” Flori looked at me and raised her eyebrows. The motherly look.

  “I said that so he wouldn’t worry, that’s all. Just walking over to the beach isn’t like leaving the premises.”

  “Going acr
oss the road is leaving the premises. Quit trying to wriggle out of your promise, Mabel.”

  “Okay, maybe that was stretching it a little. We could go to the pool. We haven’t been there since we got here, Flori. It looks inviting and that’s still in the hotel. Why don’t we do that, girls?”

  I was sure Flori would mention that we’d already packed our bathing suits and that we couldn’t get them wet but as it so happened, neither one heard me because Humphrey Bogart crushed Audrey Hepburn to his chest. Well, I don’t know if you could call it ‘crushed’; after all, he wasn’t very young and if the truth were told, he didn’t seem very muscular either. Flori and Stella were wiping away the tears and ready to watch it all over again. I slipped out the door.

  I bypassed the pool and went out the rear exit door. I needed one last look at Avenue P½. Before I headed down the back lane, I took a quick peek around to the front of the building and the parking lot. No sign of Kyle or any other uniformed person. Maxymowich was probably in Parson’s Cove by now. I imagine he felt there was no point in hanging around here if he couldn’t even make any arrests. I wondered what Reg and the boys were doing back home.

  I checked my watch. This would have to be a fast run. I had two hours, max. If I didn’t show up when the shuttle bus arrived, Flori would disown me. Or, worse.

  One thing going for Yellow Rose was the back lanes. It seemed that every street had them and some streets that were really streets, looked like back lanes. In about ten minutes, I was on P½. I went down the lane until I hit Thirty Sixth Street. This was apparently Ben Williams’ home. The home of Ben, the cop, and Andrea, the tough one. How, on earth, did they ever get together?

  Everything looked quiet and normal. Hard to imagine there’d been a shoot-out just hours before. I snuck in beside the garage where we’d parked the Cadillac and checked out the house. How long would I have to stand here and wait for someone to come out? Ridiculous. I wasn’t going to waste the day doing that. Two hours go by very quickly. I’d already used up too many minutes.