by Leena Clover
“Unnh hunh,” the woman behind me agreed.
I waved goodbye and quit the line.
My mind was churning ahead, thinking of other ways there might have been a power outage at the Lucas residence. It could be as easy as switching off the mains and bringing them back on. I don’t think anyone had cut a wire. That would have taken much longer to fix. Even a fuse would have taken longer. Who can replace a fuse wire in a minute?
I pulled up at the gas station on my way home later that night. Tony came out to talk to me. We leaned against the Camry, enjoying the quiet. We live in a flat area where you can see around for miles. The sky had cleared up after the storm and the stars were peeping out.
“She called me again,” Tony said. “She wanted to know why I’m blowing her off.”
“What did you say?”
Tony looked into my eyes.
“You didn’t!”
A slow smile stole over his face.
“I told her you were jealous. You better watch out for her, Meera!”
Tony yowled when I punched him in the arm. I brought him up to speed on the power situation.
“So someone planned the whole thing minute by minute.”
It was beginning to look that way.
“I’ve been thinking, Meera.”
I let him continue.
“I believe Motee Ba and Sylvie may be right. Have you noticed the language of those notes?”
“Not really,” I admitted.
I had focused on the gist but I hadn’t really paid attention to every word.
“Does it matter?”
“They are not addressed to anyone. And they are not signed.”
“You think a blackmailer is going to sign his or her name?” I scoffed.
“Depends on the blackmailer,” Tony quipped. “Can you imagine Dot writing a letter that is not addressed to anyone, or that doesn’t end with ‘yours truly’ or whatever.”
Dotty, Dot Brown, had taught English all her life. She was the ultimate grammar Nazi. She had drilled these things into us year after year.
“I never thought of that.”
“There’s something else you have missed, Meera.”
I squared my shoulders, ready to consider Tony’s theory.
“Dot would never say ‘gonna’.”
I berated myself for missing it. Dot had given me a C once on my final paper because I had written ‘gonna’ instead of ‘going to’.
‘Learn to respect the language, Meera!’ she had cautioned.
“Why did I not think of this?” I groaned.
I called Stan as soon as I got home. He wasn’t very receptive.
“All that’s just guess work. There is no way to know.”
“You had her in school too. You tell me what I’m saying doesn’t make sense.”
“It does,” Stan admitted. “But there could be any number of reasons. Can you imagine Dot doing something nasty?”
“No,” I replied simply.
“So maybe she flipped a bit. She couldn’t have been right in her head.”
I was quiet. I didn’t want to think that. Honestly, Dot was sharp as a tack. Always had been.
“Or she could have done it on purpose,” Stan supplied. “Just to mask her style. She could have deliberately planned it so we wouldn’t think it was her.”
“Okay, okay!” I was a bit curt.
I was beginning to have a pounding headache.
“And the main reason is,” Stan went on. “If not her, who else?”
I thought back to the white board. Almost every name there had been scratched out. Unless I wanted to suspect my own grandma, there was no other possible alternative.
“Don’t forget what you told me, Meera.” Stan sounded kind.
“What?”
“She was the only one privy to those secrets.”
I bid Stan good night and hung up. I was frustrated. I wanted to drop the whole thing. Motee Ba or I weren’t really suspects. At least, not anymore. So why was I wasting time agonizing over a problem that couldn’t be solved?
Chapter 22
“Mary Beth was here for lunch with her daughter today,” Sylvie said when I walked into the diner next evening.
It had been a dull day and I was falling asleep on my feet. I warmed my hands around the mug as Becky poured me some freshly brewed coffee. I almost didn’t hear what Sylvie said next.
“She wants to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“She’ll tell you when she sees you.”
I looked at Becky. Becky turned to ask Sylvie for a break.
“Git goin’, girls,” Sylvie waved us off. “She’s already called here once to remind me.”
I couldn’t imagine what was so urgent.
We pulled up in front of Mary Beth Arlington’s house fifteen minutes later. I hoped she had something to eat.
Mary Beth came out on the porch as we parked the car. She ushered us in.
“Thanks for coming by, Meera. We need to talk.”
We followed her in. A table was set with a hefty array of snacks. I hoped they were for us. Mary Beth pointed at the table.
“Help yourselves, girls. You must be hungry.”
I dipped a garlic breadstick into a bowl of cheesy dip. There were two kinds of chips, veggies sticks and some chicken tenders. Mary Beth was patient until we had loaded small plates with a bit of everything. The smell of fresh baked cookies filled the house. I hoped she would bring those out later.
I bit into a piece of chicken and enjoyed the crispy, juicy texture. Mary Beth can give Sylvie a run for her money any day.
We complimented her on the food and looked at her questioningly.
“I have something important to discuss.”
I pulled off a bite of breadstick and nodded.
“I haven’t been sure what to say all this time,” Mary Beth wrung her hands. “But once I made the decision, I couldn’t wait any more.”
“Okay,” I said, sucking buffalo sauce off a finger.
“It’s been on my mind far too long.”
“What are you talking about, Mrs. Arlington?” Becky tried to nudge her in the right direction.
Mary Beth pulled out a bundle from her pocket. It was an old handkerchief with something wrapped in it. She handed it over to me.
I wiped my hands on a snowy linen napkin and took the bundle from her. I untied it and stared at what lay inside.
“So you got them too.”
“What do you mean ‘too’?” Mary Beth was flustered.
I picked out a piece of now familiar paper and read what was written on it.
‘You think you’re fit to be President? I know what’s going on with you. I’m gonna tell!’
It was the same trash talking threatening message found in the other letters. There was nothing concrete in it. Nor was there a sender’s name. Not that I had expected there to be. There were more of the same notes, each message a bit more harsh than the previous one.
“Do you know what this is referring to?” I asked Mary Beth.
“Well, I can’t be sure, of course. But I can guess.”
She stood up and went inside. I loaded a couple more chicken tenders on my plate and dunked a breadstick into the cheese dip. Becky gave me an ugly look.
“What? I’m starving!”
Mary Beth came out with her daughter in tow. The kids from hell were nowhere to be seen today. Looked like the daughter was still fighting with her husband. This girl had been a couple of years ahead of us in school. She had married right out of high school and moved away with her husband.
Mary Beth’s blue eyes were clouded with worry. Her daughter had the same blond hair and blue eyes as her mother. She was a bit taller and looked like a typical harried Mom.
“You remember Missy?”
We nodded and said Hi.
Missy was knitting something furiously, carrying a ball of pink wool in the pocket of her apron. The needles clacked as Mary Beth talked to us.
&
nbsp; “You can set that aside for now, Missy,” Mary Beth ordered. “She does that when she’s nervous,” Mary Beth explained to us. “She’s so like me in many ways.”
Mary Beth’s knees creaked as she sat down on the couch. She took a deep breath and looked at us.
“I hope you’ll keep this between us.”
We nodded.
“Missy’s leaving her husband.”
We expressed our regret.
“You tell them, Missy!” Mary Beth said in a rush.
“It’s the economy,” Missy began.
I was surprised to hear she had a strong voice.
“I lost my job about three months ago, before Christmas. My husband was nice at first but we found it hard to make ends meet. We started fighting, until one day…”
Missy paused, reluctant to go on.
“He hit her!” Mary Beth whispered hoarsely. “That piece of crap hit my daughter.”
I felt some of her indignation rub off on me.
“How dare he!”
“I did the first thing that came to mind,” Missy sobbed. “I took the kids and came here to Mom’s.”
“They spend Christmas here every year,” Mary Beth supplied.
“The kids were out of school and it was all very well for a few days. But I had to make a decision before Spring term started.”
“We all agreed she should dump the idiot and come back home.”
I silently applauded Mary Beth. She patted her bun, looking sober.
“People would talk, of course. Everyone knows me here in Swan Creek. But I couldn’t send Missy back to that monster.”
So far, I found nothing exceptional in the story. Call me jaded, but isn’t this sort of common in houses across America? Divorce is not exactly unknown.
“That’s when the letters started,” Mary Beth answered my question.
“You mean the letters are about Missy?”
“My life’s almost perfect, Meera. We are blessed. This is the only unusual thing happening to us right now.”
“But how is that your fault? Or hers?”
I looked at Missy. She was squirming on the couch next to her mother.
“People will judge because they can,” Mary Beth said pompously. “When you are in public office, you are always under the radar. The slightest event in your life is open for everyone’s consumption.”
It took me a moment to understand her. She was referring to her post of WOSCO President as public office.
I made some soothing noises.
“Did you think the letters could be damaging?”
“I was disturbed at first. On Missy’s behalf. But it was bound to come out eventually.”
“Are your kids going to the local school?” I asked Missy.
“We decided to home school them this semester. We haven’t told them anything yet.”
“But we don’t want them to learn this from someone else.”
“Did you try to find out who wrote the notes?”
“No need to,” Mary Beth said flatly. “It was Dot.”
“How can you be sure?” I asked.
“She’s the only one who knew Missy’s back for good.”
“We talked to her about the kids,” Missy added. “I wanted to know if she would coach them. She agreed home schooling for a semester wasn’t a bad idea.”
“I bet you were angry at her,” I said slowly, observing Mary Beth’s face.
“I was!” Mary Beth agreed easily. “I planned to settle this at the party.”
“Anything else you were planning to do?” Becky asked.
“How do you mean, girls?”
“How important is keeping Missy’s secret? What would you do for it?”
Mary Beth frowned and turned red.
“Do you mean…do you think…are you saying I harmed Dot because of this note?”
“You could have!”
“My God!” Mary Beth cried. “What kind of monster do you think I am? Once Missy files for divorce, it’s going to be public record. And it’s not like she’s at fault here.”
“Then how were you going to ‘settle’ it?”
Mary Beth relaxed. She even let out a tiny giggle.
“I was going to share Missy’s story with the group. See, part of WOSCO’s mission is to help women in need. I wanted to set an example with my own daughter. Telling everyone her story would inspire other battered women to stand up for themselves.”
“Mother’s always preached that,” Missy stepped in. “But now she has an actual example to quote.”
Mary Beth Arlington was cut from a different cloth.
“How would that address the notes, Mrs. Arlington?”
“Well, once the secret was out, those letters would have no meaning.”
She leaned forward as if sharing another secret.
“You know what I think? I think this was Dot’s way of pushing us in the right direction.”
“Writing nasty anonymous letters full of threats?” Becky cried in alarm.
“Anything goes between friends, dear,” Mary Beth patted Becky’s hand. “Meera would do the same for you.”
I thought about that. She was right in a way. If I had to resort to something drastic to influence Becky to see the light, I would do it in a heartbeat.
“So you weren’t mad at Dot? I asked.
“There was nothing to be mad about. She was just looking out for us. Of course, I didn’t actually get to make my speech. Dot was taken from us before that.”
Her eyes teared up and I offered her a clean linen napkin from the table. Mary Beth blew her nose and engaged in a crying bout for a few minutes. I didn’t think it was right to eat anything while she was crying.
Missy got up and came back with a plate of cookies. They were warm from the oven.
“I’m sorry to hear about your marriage, Missy.”
“Thanks, Meera. But I guess it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe marrying so young wasn’t a good idea.”
Mary Beth had finished sobbing and sniffling.
“I think this was her last hurrah before she left for London. She always wanted to do something fun.”
“You knew she was planning a trip to London?” I asked, wide eyed.
“Honey, what did I tell you? She’s been planning that trip since she married Walter. I heard her talking to Henry that day, asking about flights and stuff. I figured they were finally going to make it.”
Something wasn’t adding up.
“Mrs. Arlington, what did you want to talk about exactly? You knew Dot was sending the notes. And you weren’t even angry at her for it.”
I couldn’t figure out what her problem was.
“Oh…you asked me about Dot the other day. I hid the part about the letters. That wasn’t sitting too well with me. I can never hold on to a secret, you know.”
Mary Beth was well known for her tendency to gossip.
“I just wanted to come clean. What’s the point of hiding all this? Missy filed for divorce last week. And Dot’s not with us anymore.”
“You’re sure there’s nothing else the letters could be referring to?”
Mary Beth shook her head.
“Fairly sure.”
I thought about what to say next.
“You may not know this. But you’re not the only one to get those letters.”
“What?” Mary Beth exclaimed.
“The theory is that Dot was blackmailing a number of people.”
Mary Beth looked deeply offended.
“That’s impossible, Meera. Who came up with that?”
“It seems everyone has something to hide,” I said. “And they all believe Dot wrote those letters.”
“She might have played a joke on me,” Mary Beth cried. “We were friends since kindergarten. But she couldn’t have wanted to harm others.”
“I have seen the other letters. And they are the same. Same paper, same writing.”
Mary Beth sat stunned.
“If that’s the case, Dot didn�
�t write these letters.”
Whether she wrote them or not, the letters possibly cost Dot her life. I wanted to tell Mary Beth that. But I held myself back.
“Do you mind turning these in to the police? They are evidence.”
“Call Stan Miller,” Mary Beth nodded to Missy.
“You are fond of playing detective, aren’t you Meera?” Mary Beth asked. “Find out who really wrote those letters.”
I drove home later and called Stan.
“How many more letters are out there, you think?”
“We have no way to know. But we are running out of people who could have received them.”
I stared at the white board and drew a line through Mary Beth’s name. Solving this murder was turning out to be as tough as one of Dot’s assignments.
Chapter 23
Mary Beth Arlington had managed to muddy the waters. My work day wasn’t going all that great. I was preoccupied, trying to think of different scenarios, wondering if Dot had really not written the letters. I was caught wool gathering twice. A few times, students swiped their cards themselves and I didn’t even notice.
“You look tired, Meera. Why don’t you take an early lunch?” my supervisor suggested.
I came out, not sure if I wanted to eat. That almost never happens. I spotted Tony trying to find a parking spot and waved at him. Luckily, he saw me. I jogged over and got in.
I had completely forgotten we were going out for lunch.
“Where to?” Tony asked. “You in the mood for barbecue?”
I shrugged. When it comes to barbecue, I prefer my own.
Tony drove farther than usual and pulled into a big parking lot. Smoky aromas of mesquite and hickory filled the air. I felt my mouth water.
Tony got in his order of brisket and I went for chicken. I poured some of their signature hot sauce over the chicken and started cutting through it.
“Mary Beth doesn’t think Dot wrote those letters,” I complained. “One more person in Dotty’s Fan Club.”
“What do you have against Dot Brown, Meera?” Tony reasoned. “If so many people believe she was innocent, why are you stuck on thinking otherwise?”
“There are no other options. Henry and Fiona were actually ready to kill her for it. No smoke without fire.”
I noticed the place we were in and actually smiled.
Going out for lunch lightened my mood. The day passed quickly after that.
