Mabel, Murder, & Muffins

by Sharon Mierke

  “See, Flori? That’s why I never wanted an answering machine. Look how it’s got all of us so upset and worried. If I didn’t have one, we’d be innocently ignorant and enjoying life.”

  “What a foolish thing to say. We would be still worried because a woman was murdered. That has nothing to do with your answering machine.”

  “What about the first message? That, my friend, was the beginning of everything. The beginning of the end. Did you forget about that?”

  Flori didn’t have an answer to that so she just sat in the wicker chair and drank her coffee. I started stocking some of the shelves, muttering a few cuss words under my breath.

  “What are you doing, Mabel?”

  “I’ll tell you what I’m doing; I left Delores in charge and she rearranged half my store. I did not pay her to do this. Look.” I pointed to the window facing Main Street. “She put all the English china teacups on this window shelf. Now, when someone comes in and slams the door, they’ll hit the floor and break into a million pieces.”

  “That’s actually too bad, isn’t it? I like them there. They sort of brighten up the window, don’t they?”

  I gave her a dirty look. “No, they don’t, Flori.”

  “Well,” she said, getting up from the chair in a huff, “I don’t think there’s anything I can say to brighten up your mood today, is there?” She went into the back room and washed out her cup. When she came back, she continued, “If you keep up with this bad temper, you’ll chase all your customers away. Is that what you want?” She raised her eyebrows at me until they were out of view.

  That phone call was bugging me, the rearranged shelves were bugging me, and now Flori was starting to bug me too.

  “I don’t need you mothering me today, Flori.”

  “Heaven forbid,” she said, and walked out the door.

  I spent the next several hours putting everything back where it belonged, trying to be polite to customers and at the same time, playing that phone message repeatedly in my brain.

  I closed up shop at four-thirty. The only customer who ever came after that was Esther Flynn if she happened to be in town and I was in no mood to be heckled by her. The fact that she hadn’t really purchased anything worth more than five dollars in the past forty years was an irritant in itself. If Reg would let me put up a notice saying that I’d banned her from the store for life, I would be truly happy. Unfortunately, Reg doesn’t approve of store bans.

  My mood didn’t improve after I got home. I’m usually not prone to moodiness but things were starting to get to me. It bothered me that no one knew who murdered Andrea Williams. What was Maxymowich up to anyway? It also bugged me that no one had connected her murder to Parson’s Cove. There had to be a reason for someone to dump the body in Parson’s Cove. Why? Why pick a small nondescript town to dump a dead body? (Oops, a light went off in my head.) Was that why the murderer did pick Parson’s Cove? Because it was small and nondescript?

  On the other hand, could it have had something to do with me, the only person on the trip from Parson’s Cove? How else would the murderer know about this small nondescript town if he or she hadn’t been on the trip with me? What about Hatcher? Perhaps, now he would like to try to connect me to a murder but certainly not before I went to Yellow Rose. I’m sure he's wishing it was my body out behind the nursing home. Andrea Williams? I don’t think I meant much to her before she dragged me into her house and shoved a gun in my face. All I hoped for her was a very long jail term. It’s true, Hatcher and Andrea talked tough but were they capable of murder? Would they have really dropped Cecile and me into the Gulf? The thought of salt water filling my mouth and then my lungs made me shudder.

  I was deep in thought and sinking deeper into despair when the doorbell jolted me awake. Let me tell you something about Parson’s Cove. Everyone has a doorbell but no one ever uses it. It is only for out of town visitors or strangers. When it rings, our guard goes up immediately. We tread warily to the door, usually on tiptoe, to sneak a look through some blind or out from behind a curtain. If it’s a stranger (or relative) who doesn’t meet up to our standards, we remain HBH (home but hiding).

  I was in the process of tiptoeing to the kitchen window when I tripped over one of the cats that had decided, at the last minute, to make a wild dash for the door. As I grabbed a chair to keep from falling, it flipped over, and I ended up sprawled on the floor. This, in itself, wasn’t loud enough to cause attention. My screaming as I flew up and landed smack on my sacroiliac caused the attention. I laid there for several seconds, first hoping I wouldn’t be spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair, and then wondering if there was a dead cat under me.

  As I was mulling all this through my mind, with my eyes closed, I heard the door open and someone call my name.

  “Mabel, are you okay?” the voice asked. “Is anything broken?” Hands started to lift me.

  “Is there a cat under me?” I whispered, without opening my eyes.

  “A cat?” The hands pulled me up to a sitting position. “No, there’s no cat under you.” There was a pause. “There are quite a few in the room though.”

  I opened my eyes.

  “Ralph!” I said. “What, on earth, are you doing here?”

  I struggled to get up. He helped me with one hand while he pulled the chair up with the other. I’m not big so it didn’t take much effort to turn me and plunk me onto the seat.

  “Ralph Murphy,” I repeated. “What are you doing here in Parson’s Cove?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Mabel? Is there anything I can get you?” He nervously scratched his head and a light smattering of dandruff fluttered down onto his shirt.

  “I’m fine.” By this time, I’d figured out for myself that there were no injuries. At least, not fractures; it was hard to say how long my tailbone would be sore.

  “I’m so sorry, Mabel. I didn’t mean to harm you.”

  “Ralph,” I said, feeling the need to take hold of the conversation. “You didn’t harm me. I tripped over one of my cats. I do it all the time.”

  “You do?” He looked somewhat bewildered.

  “Well, not to this degree. But, no, look at me.” I stood up and did several stretches. My tailbone did hurt. “Absolutely, one hundred percent, perfectly fine.” I smiled at him. “Now, would you sit down and tell me what you are doing here in Parson’s Cove? Surely, you didn’t come just to pay me a visit.”

  “Actually, I did, Mabel. I remember you telling us when we were in Las Vegas, how you’ve helped the police solve several crimes, so I came seeking your help.”

  “Why don’t you just go to the police?”

  He blushed. “Because I’m not certain it really is a crime.”

  “So, you aren’t talking about Grace?” I wasn’t sure if he knew her real name or not.

  “Well, sort of. In fact, I’m talking about all of them, except for you.”

  “All of them? What do you mean?”

  “You know how we were all together on one plane until we got to Denver? Then, you had to transfer to another flight. Well, the rest of us were supposed to stay on that same plane. Except that’s not what happened.”

  “What do you mean, that’s not what happened?”

  “I’m the only one who stayed on that flight. There was a two hour delay while they checked the plane engine or something and a few passengers got off, while several others came on.”

  “You’re telling me that Grace, Sally, and Andrea got off the plane and never got back on?”

  He nodded.

  “What about Hatcher?”

  He shook his head. “He didn’t get back on either.”

  “Ralph, are you sure you aren’t mistaken? Maybe they were all catching different flights too.”

  “No, we were all taking the same flight to Houston.”

  “You didn’t notify the airline?”

  “That’s where I checked it out. I explained to them that all of us were supposed to be on the same flight.”

&nb
sp; “So, what did they say?”

  “They did some checking and said that the four of them had changed their flight at the last minute.”

  “Really? Why do you think they did that?”

  “That’s what I’d like you to find out, Mabel. Could it have been my fault? I don’t think I did anything to get them all upset. Sally maybe, but not the others. Do you think she turned them against me?”

  “Isn’t that reading too much into it? You must have a better reason than that.”

  He shrugged. “Something had happened, Mabel. I don’t know what but I was beginning to worry about Sally. She was trying to get in with that Hatcher fellow but I didn’t trust him. Whenever I tried to say something, she just said I was jealous. I know I’m not as good looking or have as much money but I didn’t want her to get hurt.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. “When we were still friends, she gave me her phone number. I’ve tried and tried but there’s no answer. I’m worried that something’s happened to her.”

  “Ralph,” I said. “There is good reason to worry. Did you know that Grace is dead?”

  “Grace?” His eyes got big and filled with fear. “What happened? Was there an accident?”

  “There was a murder.”

  “A murder? Grace was murdered?” His face lost its color and his hand shook as he reached for his scalp. It took all the willpower I had not to put my hand out to stop him. “But, why? Why was she killed and who killed her?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve found out a lot about those people but I haven’t found the killer. Nor have I found out why her body was dumped in the woods, right here in Parson’s Cove.”

  “Right here in Parson’s Cove?”

  He might have said more but the pupils of his eyes suddenly rolled up out of view and Ralph Murphy collapsed in a heap on my floor. There were no cats under his body.

  Chapter Thirty

  There is one ambulance in Parson’s Cove and when its siren screams, everyone and his dog rushes to the street to see what’s happening. Or, as in my case, multiple cats. We’re like everyone else in the world; we have a morbid curiosity in pain, suffering and unexpected death. This day was no different.

  By the time, Hermann Lawson backed the ambulance into my driveway, people lined the sidewalk in front of my house. Since I live alone, I already knew what they were saying - I either fell and broke my hip but was able to painfully crawl to the phone, or had chest pains but was still conscious and able to crawl to the phone. Whichever it was, there would be crawling involved. Or, there was a terrible odor emitting from my house and on checking it out, I was found to be dead. Since I’d been at work all day and quite alive, perhaps no one was saying the latter.

  Although Ralph seemed to be all right now, I wasn’t taking any chances. I’d thrown a pitcher of cold water in his face and that had brought him back to life but I certainly didn’t want it happening again in my presence. Thus, the 911 call. Hermann wasn’t taking any chances either. He doesn’t get many customers (I don’t like to use the term ‘patients’ because Hermann only took a first-aid course so his job is not to treat or diagnose; it’s just to drive the four blocks or so to the hospital with his siren going). However, when he does get a call, he makes the most of it. About the only thing he didn’t do was wrap Ralph in a body bag.

  “Did you give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, Mabel?” he asked, with a depraved gleam in his eye.

  I glared at him. “No, I did not. I told you, I threw a pitcher of water in his face. Perhaps, Hermann, you noticed that he’s all wet.” In fact, Ralph looked like he’d fallen into the lake, fully clothed.

  “Oh, oh yes.”

  Ralph, by this time, was pulling himself up onto a chair and shaking some of the water from his hair and ears.

  “Mabel,” Hermann said, “Would you help me move this gentleman on to the gurney?”

  “No, I won’t,” I said. “Why didn’t you bring someone to help you? I’ve already fallen today; I’m not going to start lifting heavy men.”

  “I didn’t bring anyone because I thought it was just you here. I certainly wouldn’t need help lifting you up. How was I to know you were entertaining a gentleman friend?”

  “I’ll have you know, Hermann, I was not, as you put it, entertaining a gentleman friend. His name is Ralph Murphy, if you must know. All we did was go on a trip together, that’s all.”

  If I thought Flori could raise her eyebrows, it was nothing compared to what Hermann could do with his. He reminded me of an owl with his bushy eyebrows poking over his round black rimmed glasses.

  “Perhaps, I worded that wrong. We didn’t go on a trip alone together as I can see your perverted little mind is thinking. It was the trip to Las Vegas. You heard about that. Ralph, here, was one of the winners too.”

  Ralph started nodding his head.

  “That’s all it was, sir,” Ralph said, sounding very much like a school boy trying to explain to a girl’s father why there was lipstick all over his face and his shirttails were hanging out. “And, now I’m perfectly all right. I really don’t see any need for a gurney.” He turned to me in desperation. “Don’t you think so, Mabel?”

  “I’m sure you don’t need a gurney but maybe you should get Doc Fritz to check you out. A person shouldn’t just pass out like that.”

  “No, it’s okay. Just get me a drink of orange juice, if you have some. My blood sugar’s off, that’s all.”

  I went to get a glass and some juice. Hermann seemed disappointed as he started returning all his equipment into his backpack, especially when he packed up the little paddles used for jumpstarting the heart. I guess he felt he should say something medically related, however, so he said, “You should do something about that dandruff, Ralph. Could be caused by some serious medical problem.” With that, he hoisted the front end of the folded gurney under his arm and dragged it out the door.

  On his way to the ambulance, I heard him call out, “Don’t worry. Wasn’t Mabel at all. She’s fit as a fiddle. Some gentleman friend she was entertaining passed out, that’s all. ”

  I don’t know what someone then asked but Hermann answered by saying, “Don’t think it was gin. Can’t say I smelled any liquor. Could’ve been vodka, I guess. They say there’s no odor to it.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  Ralph settled down at the table with his juice and I put on a pot of coffee.

  “Have you eaten anything within the last couple of hours?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Guess I haven’t in awhile. I was just concerned about getting here and hoping to talk to you.”

  “Did you get a room at the Hotel or what were you planning to do?” Not that I wanted to rush him out the door but I knew there would be people hiding behind trees and lampposts waiting to see what was going on.

  “No, I didn’t book a room. I didn’t know if there was a hotel here or not. I could drive back to the city, if you think it would be better.”

  “Don’t drive all the way back. The hotel here is all right, if you’re staying one night. Obviously, it isn’t what we’ve been used to. You’ll probably get the third degree from someone but don’t worry, they’re all harmless.”

  He gave me a humorless smile. “Unless one of them is a murderer.”

  “Well, I guess there is always that.”

  Before I could say anything more, the phone rang and it was Flori.

  “Mabel,” she screamed. “What’s going on at your place? Who’s the stranger who had a heart attack and almost died? And, when did you learn to do CRP?”

  “First of all, no one almost died. Secondly, it wasn’t a stranger; it was Ralph Murphy. Remember, he was on the Las Vegas trip with me. And, Flori, it isn’t CRP, it’s CPR and I have no idea how to do that. No one had a heart attack or stopped breathing. I wouldn’t have even phoned for an ambulance if I’d known Ralph would come to after I dumped a pitcher of water on his head.”

  “But, Mabel,” she screeched, “what’s he doing at your
house? Is it about the murder? Does he know anything? Is it okay if I come to your place?” She paused for a moment and whispered, “You have no idea how people are gossiping about this. I think it’s better if I come over. See you in five.” She hung up.

  Flori would arrive in three.

  “My friend, Flori, is coming over,” I explained. “She says she’s worried about my reputation but she really wants to meet you and find out what’s going on.”

  “I sure didn’t mean to make so much trouble for you, Mabel. All I wanted to do was find out what happened to our friends. It’s so hard to believe that Grace was murdered. But, why? Why would someone kill her? She seemed like such a nice person, didn’t she? It was the other one, that Andrea, who seemed kind of miserable to me.”

  The door opened. Flori walked in, panting. I looked at the clock. Two and a half minutes - a new record! That woman can really run when she wants to.

  After the introductions, the three of us sat down at the kitchen table. Flori and Ralph talked about Las Vegas while I whipped up some ham and mustard sandwiches, opened a jar of homemade pickles, cut up some cheese, and dumped a bag of barbeque potato chips into a bowl. If this was supper, this was it. I filled everyone’s cup with fresh coffee. Ralph didn’t say anything because he was busy eating. Why, on earth, if you have a tendency to pass out from not eating, would you not eat? I’m perfectly healthy but never miss a meal.

  We settled into the living room with our second cup of coffee. I did have some carrot muffins and a few orange and date muffins in the freezer but thought it best to keep them frozen and out of sight. There was no need to gamble with Ralph’s blood sugar again.

  “So,” Flori finally said, “why did you come to Parson’s Cove, Ralph? Did you just come to visit Mabel or was it about Grace’s murder?” She turned to me. “It is really a coincidence, isn’t it? You know, if he just happened to come here?”