Mabel, Murder, & Muffins

by Sharon Mierke

  I walked up to the backdoor and banged on it.

  The door swung open and there stood Andrea Williams. Not the black one or the dead one but the one who’d won the trip to Las Vegas. My mouth gaped open but no words came out. She had a wild animal look in her eye. Before I could swallow the saliva building up in the back of my throat, she’d grabbed my arm, pulled me inside, and slammed the door shut.

  I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the friendly reunion I’d been hoping for. Her fingernails cut into my arm as she whisked me through the kitchen and shoved me into a chair in the living room.

  No one had said anything to me yet. They didn’t have to. Andrea had a gun in her hand and her friend, Mr. Hatcher was holding a gun. Andrea had hers pointed at me, and Mr. Hatcher had his pointed at Cecile Tucker.

  Cecile looked me over and said, “Who the hell are you?” Before he could say anything more, Hatcher shoved the gun to his head and said, “Shut up. We’ll tell you when you can talk.”

  This was the first time I could get a good look at Cecile. If he were a cop, he could’ve fooled me. He still looked like a slime ball and I doubt a shave, bath, and haircut would’ve helped.

  I had no idea what Hatcher or Andrea knew about me. Cecile, the supposedly good guy, didn’t know anything. Surely, the other two thought that I was Mabel, the innocent one, who truly believed she’d won a trip to Las Vegas. What else could they think? I decided to pretend that I hadn’t noticed the guns.

  “Andrea,” I said, (my heart was beating at such a rate, I was sure everyone could see my shirt flopping up and down) “you never said how beautiful Yellow Rose was. To be truthful, I would prefer to visit here than Las Vegas any day. And, you, Mr. Hatcher?” I stretched my dry lips into a smile. “Why, on earth, are you here? Don’t tell me someone else won a trip? That is awesome. I just came over to tell you, Andrea, how much I enjoyed sharing the experience with you. (At this point, I was starting to feel like a bobble head.) Is there going to be another one soon, Mr. Hatcher? I was wondering; can a person keep sending in coupons or do you have to wait for a while? You know, is there a time limit? Like, you can only send in every six months? I mean, I wouldn’t want to be greedy, you know.”

  The last two words came out high-pitched. That happens when someone grabs the back of your hair and pulls.

  “Shut up, you stupid old bag,” Andrea said as she jerked my head back, using my hair.

  Hatcher looked over at her. “Now, what are we going to do? I told you not to answer the door.”

  Cecile spoke up. “Let this woman go. She doesn’t know anything. She’s just here…” He turned his head to me. “Why exactly are you here?”

  “I told you to keep quiet,” Hatcher said. He slammed the side of the gun across the side of Cecile’s head. It made a loud whack. He must’ve done it a few times before I arrived because I noticed several bright red scrapes along the side of Cecile’s face.

  “We’ll have to get rid of both of them. We have no choice.” Andrea once again grabbed my hair. If I didn’t die, I would be bald. “Too bad you got so nosy, Mabel. You should’ve stayed back in that little hick town you came from.”

  “So,” I said, trying to ignore the pain in my scalp. “You’re going to shoot me between the eyes like you did Grace?”

  Andrea looked puzzled. “What are you talking about? I didn’t shoot Grace between the eyes.” She let go of my hair and put her face up to mine. “Or, are you telling me that that’s what you want? A nice clean shot?” She laughed. “I can do that easy enough.”

  I looked up at Hatcher. “It was you then? You shot Grace?”

  I’m not the best judge of character but I was sure the look on his face was blank. Cecile tried to say something but his jaw was swelling at an amazing rate and I couldn’t understand him. He needed ice in a very bad way.

  “In other words,” I said, “neither one of you claims to have killed Andrea Williams?”

  “Are you nuts? I’m Andrea Williams.” Andrea pointed her gun at Cecile. “What’s this woman talking about?” He shrugged.

  “He can’t talk,” I said. “You’ve obviously broken his jaw, Hatcher. If you had any decency in you at all, you’d get some ice for it.”

  Hatcher shook his head. “I’ve had enough of this. Tie them up and gag them. We’ll dump them in the Gulf tonight.”

  Andrea nodded and left the room. I assumed to hunt for rope.

  “Hatcher,” I said. “What’s going on here? Why are you going to kill Mr. Tucker and me? What have we done to you?”

  “Well, I’ll tell you what Mr. Tucker has done to me, Mabel. He double-crossed me. Know what I mean? He pretended to be a friend.”

  I cringed as he pushed the butt of the gun into Cecile’s ear. “Didn’t you, old buddy?” he said, and shoved it farther inside.

  “Stop, Hatcher, there’s no need to wreck his eardrum. He was only doing his job. Why should you kill someone for doing his job?”

  He laughed but it wasn’t a nice laugh. “Oh yes, he did a real good job. Didn’t you, Cecile?” He removed the gun and jabbed Cecile’s jaw with his fist. Cecile winced.

  “You’ve got me in big trouble and you know it. If you don’t own up and tell me where that money is, my life is as good as over. And, so is yours, Cecile, don’t forget that. You’re going to die before I do.” He waved the gun at Cecile’s head. “Everything was running nice and smooth. Nice and smooth. Then, all of a sudden, something goes wrong. The money disappears. Grace disappears. Some stoolie comes up to me and says, don’t trust Cecile Tucker.”

  “You trusted a stool pigeon?” I said. “I wouldn’t trust one as far as I could spit. Maybe you’re the one who made the mistake, Hatcher. Maybe you lost the money.”

  “I didn’t make a mistake, lady.”

  “But what about me? Why are you going to kill me? I don’t sell or buy drugs. I don’t even gamble. Or,” I said, “did you think I did? Is that why you wanted me on that trip? ”

  “I’m going to kill you, Mabel, because you have no business being here and already you know too much. Why are you in Yellow Rose anyway?”

  “I came to find out who killed Grace Hobbs.”

  “What are you talking about? First, you say Andrea is dead and now you say Grace is dead?” He forgot about poking Cecile in the face for a moment and stared at me.

  “Yes, Hatcher. Grace is dead. Shot right between the eyes. You don’t have to try to put that shocked look on your face. You don’t fool me. I know you and your friend, Andrea here, had something to do with it.”

  “You’re a crazy old woman talking nonsense. Why would we kill Grace? And, why did you say Grace and then change it to Andrea? You don’t even know who you’re talking about, do you?”

  Andrea appeared in the doorway, her gun still pointing in my general direction. “I told you she was one weird old duck. Now we know for sure. I think she's losing her mind.”

  “No, I’m not.” I looked at Andrea and then at Hatcher. “And, I’d appreciate if you would both stop calling me old and weird. At least, give me some dignity before you murder me. I’m telling you the truth - Grace’s real name was Andrea Williams.” I looked at her. “The same as yours. She was an undercover cop. She and Cecile here were working together.”

  They both stared at me. Cecile groaned.

  “You’re an undercover cop?” Andrea walked over to Cecile.

  Through a mouth almost swollen shut, he said, “Don’t listen to her. You said yourself, she’s as crazy as a loon.”

  I then realized that I’d said too much.

  “So, if they don’t think you’re a cop, why are they holding a gun to your head?” I asked.

  “Because,” Hatcher said, “he swindled all our money. That’s why we’ve got a gun to his head.”

  “But,” I said, “if Grace is dead, why don’t you think she stole all the money?”

  “I don’t know, Mabel. You’re so smart. Maybe it’s because Cecile is the one who talked me into using her? S
o, if she really is dead, maybe the two were in it together and Cecile killed Grace to get all the money for himself.”

  “Well,” I said, “wouldn’t it be pretty stupid to show up here then? Wouldn’t Cecile be somewhere on a beach in the Bahamas now? Isn’t that what all you big time crooks do?”

  Hatcher and Andrea exchanged looks. It never ceases to amaze me how stupid these criminals can be.

  “Quite a deduction. I guess if he didn’t steal it and run, he must be a cop, Mabel. You were telling the truth, weren’t you? Now, we have a better reason for sending him to the bottom of the Gulf.”

  “Just a minute,” I said. “Whose house is this anyway? Isn’t this where Ben Williams lives? And, isn’t Andrea Williams, Ben Williams’ wife?”

  Andrea stuck out her neck and widened her eyes. “Oooh, Mabel. What are you? A detective? Or are you just snoopy? Well, guess what? You’re right. I’m Andrea Williams and I’m Ben’s wife.” She laughed.

  “But Ben is a cop.” I turned to Cecile. “Isn’t he?”

  Cecile didn’t say anything but by the expression on his badly bruised face, I knew I was right. Either that, or Cecile would’ve like to kill me himself.

  Andrea laughed again. “Yeah, he’s a real baaaad cop.” She walked towards me with a rope in her hand. “I’m sure you’ve heard of them.” She looked over at Cecile. “I guess it’s kind of like a cop pretending to be a drug dealer. Right, Cecile?”

  “Who do you think my contact in jail was?” Hatcher grinned as if he’d been nominated for a Nobel Prize.

  Cecile shook his head.

  “What’s the matter, Tucker? You wanna say something?” Hatcher moved the gun away a few inches. “Go ahead. Make it good.”

  “Ben is a good cop,” he mumbled through swollen lips. He looked over at Andrea. “You’re the one who went bad, Andrea. Ben is our link to you and Hatcher.”

  “No way. You’re a liar.” She whipped across the room with her gun pointed straight at Cecile’s heart. “Don’t tell me you know Ben better than I do.”

  “Hold it,” Hatcher yelled. He grabbed for her wrist. She screamed. The gun went off and the front window shattered into a million pieces. As soon as I heard Hatcher yell, I’d instinctively wrapped my arms around my ears and dropped my head. Shards of glass flew everywhere. I glanced up at Andrea; blood was running down her face and arms. There was a moment of total silence, except for a few leftover pieces of glass falling to the floor.

  This, I knew, would be my only chance to make a run for it. Cecile, I decided, could look after himself. After all, he had a lot more experience in this sort of thing than I did. I could hear Andrea’s screams as I raced through the kitchen and out the back door.

  I’d barely made it off the back step when two police cars seemed to appear out of nowhere and pull up into the yard. Kyle and another cop jumped out. Two more emerged from the other car. All of them had their guns drawn.

  “Mabel, get in that car,” Kyle yelled, but it was too late. I was already past him and running for the hotel. There was no way I was going to spend the next who knows how many hours in a police station answering questions. Besides, I had no answers. Everyone who lived on P ½ was mentally deranged as far as I was concerned. Except for Stella, of course.

  As I neared the hotel, I could hear someone yelling my name.

  “Yoo hoo! Mabel, Mabel, where are you?” Then, with a bit more volume, “Get here right this minute, wherever you are.”

  Just a wild guess but, I would say I was in trouble with Flori.

  I dashed around the corner. Our shuttle bus was sitting in front of the door. All our suitcases were in a neat pile by Flori’s feet. When she saw me, she screamed.

  Screamed and then raced over and hugged me as if she’d thought I’d died or something.

  “Where have you been?” She started sobbing. “You said you were just going to the pool. We’ve been searching and searching.”

  “You heard me tell you that I was going to the pool?”

  “Of course, we heard you, didn’t we Stella?”

  Stella nodded. She looked very somber. Maybe she was going to miss us more than what I thought.

  “It’s okay, Flori. I’m here now so let’s get going.” I looked at the driver. “Are we going to be late for boarding?”

  “Not if we leave this second.” It was obvious that people showing up late wasn’t something new to him. Perhaps, meeting someone like Flori might have been a new experience, however. Probably half the population of Yellow Rose had heard her screams.

  “Good. I don’t want to be here a second longer than I have to, either.” I searched through the luggage until I found my purse. “Let’s get moving. Stella,” I said, “it’s been great meeting you. Thanks for all your help. Flori and I will give you a call as soon as we get home.” I started handing the driver our suitcases so he could store them. “Okay, Flori, let’s go. We don’t want to miss our plane.” I walked over and hugged Stella. “Thanks again.” I held eye contact. “Sorry to rush but we have to leave immediately, if you know what I mean.”

  Any minute now, I was expecting to hear sirens and cop cars screeching into the parking lot. Stella glanced around and nodded as if she might be expecting some herself.

  Flori took longer to say her good-byes because of the tears and nose blowing until finally Stella almost pushed her inside the shuttle bus. Stella slammed the door shut and raced off to her own car. I glanced out the back window as we drove away and watched until the back end of the pink Cadillac was out of sight.

  Somewhere in the distant background, I did hear sirens screaming. Flori turned to look at me but I pretended not to notice. If I never saw Yellow Rose, Texas again, it would be too soon for me.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  It was almost one in the morning by the time we finally reached Parson’s Cove. Because of our friend, Captain Maxymowich, we ended up changing planes and spending three hours in Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport. Flori isn’t cranky too often, but this night she definitely was. Of course, it could have had something to do with me. It didn’t help that every time I wanted to explain why I’d left the hotel in pursuit of who knows what, she told me she didn’t want to talk about it. Well, I can’t say I didn’t try.

  Reg and Jake met us at the airport. It’s hard to describe the atmosphere. If there were an antonym for Disney World fun, this was it. Jake is a weird person when he’s happy and fuming simultaneously. In other words, he was happy to see Flori and fuming at me but he knew that if he were nasty to me, he’d make Flori miserable. Quite a no-win situation.

  Reg was just plain fuming. Personally, I can’t imagine why. Our trip had nothing to do with him. So what if we got into trouble with Maxymowich? It wasn’t any skin off his derriere. He was annoyed because he had to give up watching some television show and drive all the way to the city to pick us up. That’s why he was gnashing his teeth. The thing was he didn't have to come. Jim was now sheriff so if this was a police matter, why did he come anyway? His problem is 'letting go' - he still thinks he can do the job better than the young fellows.

  Jake and Flori sat in the backseat of the patrol car and I sat in the front with Reg. I’d tried to sneak in with Flori but Jake, without saying a word, grabbed my arm and shoved me into the front. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve argued.

  Everyone sat in silence until we got off the freeway and hit the highway to Parson’s Cove. Not that there wasn’t anything to say, we just held our breath and clung to our seat belts as Reg drove down the freeway, breaking the sound barrier. I now understood why he took the patrol car! Nobody ever stops a speeding cop car even when the flashing lights aren’t on or the siren wailing.

  Reg was the first to speak. “What in Sam's name were you thinking, Mabel?”

  “About what, Reg?” My blood pressure was beginning to return to normal but my heart was still pounding out of control.

  “You know exactly ‘about what.’” I could feel his eyes boring i
nto me but I kept mine on the road.

  “You’d better watch where you’re driving.”

  “Watch where I’m driving, you say?” Fortunately, he listened and turned his attention to the front. “How about keeping my eye on you? How many times have I told you to keep your nose out of other people’s business? Do you ever listen?” He looked over, waiting for a reply. When there was obviously not a reply forthcoming, he answered himself, “Oh no, not you! You have your own set of rules. Not only that…” He looked around into the backseat. “You involve Flori. Flori, an innocent bystander has to get involved in illegal investigating, all because of you. What do you have to say to that?”

  “Watch the road,” I screamed. “You can’t look at me, look into the back seat, and still drive, Reg.”

  “Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do, Mabel Wickles.” He did, however, straighten the wheel and return to the pavement from the shoulder. I remained silent.

  After about five minutes, he said, “So? That’s enough time for you to think of a good excuse. Why did you do it, Mabel? Why did you get Flori to go to Yellow Rose, Texas, with you?”

  “Because we wanted to see the Gulf of Mexico?”

  He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Not good enough. What did you accomplish going there, besides getting into trouble with the Law?”

  “The Law? We didn’t get into any trouble with the Law. We didn’t, did we, Flori?” I looked around at Flori but she was clinging to Jake and looking too terrified to talk. “In fact, the Law, as you put it, loved us. And, if you must know, Reg, we made new friends and helped solve some of the mystery.”

  A car went by and Reg put his lights on high beam again.

  “I hate to think of what kinds of friends you made, Mabel. Should most of them be behind bars?”

  “For your information, they were all good upright citizens. In case you were wondering and I’m sure you weren’t - one of the men in my photos was Cecile Tucker. Cecile happens to be an undercover cop.”

  Now, Flori found her voice. Sometimes she does when she shouldn’t.