For a few Dumplings More

by Leena Clover

  “Nothing,” Atticus snorted. “I didn’t ask nobody for no money. Like I said, it was just a bit of fun.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Stan said.

  “Is anyone saying they paid me money?” Atticus demanded. “They are lying, the whole bunch of them.”

  No one had admitted to actually paying anything. We knew that. I guess Stan was just making sure.

  “How did you choose your targets?” Stan asked.

  Atticus Brown’s mouth quirked up.

  “It wasn’t too hard. People told Mama things. And she was always talking about them with the old man. Repeated everything that anyone ever said to her.”

  “Were you eavesdropping on us?” Walter demanded.

  “I didn’t have to. I heard bits and pieces. Many times, she talked about the same things again and again.”

  “And you remembered what she said about people?” I asked. “Did you take notes?”

  “There was no need. I just heard names, and some bits and pieces. It was enough to tell me something was wrong in that person’s life.”

  “How did you guess that if you didn’t hear the complete thing?” Stan asked.

  “It was the tone, and the way she spoke. I just took a wild guess.”

  “Okay! Go on!” I spit out.

  “You know how boring winter can be. I was just sitting around one day when I hit upon this idea. I started writing the notes. Just for a bit of fun.”

  “So writing nasty notes to people, threatening them, entertained you?” Stan asked.

  Atticus had a smile bordering on pride.

  “I’ve been doing a paper run since I was in High School. No one notices me. I dropped those letters in mailboxes. One time I dropped it in someone’s bag. I used to hide and wait for them to read it. The look on their faces…they were priceless. I had a good laugh.”

  “You’re sick!” I yelled.

  “I enjoyed sending a letter so much, I wrote a second one, then a third one. People just hit the roof. They started looking over their shoulder, running scared.”

  Atticus had a faraway look in his eyes. He threw back his head and laughed.

  Walter was shaking his head.

  “You moron! I’m glad your Mama’s not here to see this.”

  “She didn’t think I was any better,” Atticus said proudly.

  “Were you planning to own up to it anytime?” Stan asked, looking hard at Atticus. “Where did you think this would lead? How long were you going to keep these people hanging?”

  Atticus Brown shrugged.

  “Didn’t think that far ahead. Figured someone would tell Mama and then we would just have a laugh about it.”

  “Nobody told your mother!” I cried. “You know why? Because they thought she was blackmailing them.”

  “That’s impossible. Who would believe it of my mother?”

  “The people you wrote those letters to,” Stan replied calmly. “They believed your mother was doing it because she was the only one they had shared their secret with.”

  “Who’s the fool here?” Atticus cried.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said sharply. “What matters is your mother lost her life because of those letters.”

  Walter started shaking in his seat. Pappa took his hand and waited to hear more.

  Atticus laughed nervously. He looked at Stan.

  “What’s she saying, copper?”

  Stan Miller explained what Henry and Fiona had done in brief.

  “Henry Thompson?” Walter cried out. “Henry Thompson tried to poison my Dot?”

  “Your son pushed her to it,” I said. “He threatened to tell all. Henry thought it had to be Dot writing the letters. So she lost her head and poisoned the dumpling Dot was about to eat.”

  “We will take proper action against them,” Stan said sharply. “But the dumpling did not kill Dot Brown. She never ate it.”

  “What about this woman who put a cushion over my Mama’s head?” Atticus asked.

  “That did not kill her either,” Stan said. “She was strangled. How many people did you write those letters to, Atticus?”

  Atticus Brown had finally lost his swagger. He counted on his fingers.

  “Four, maybe five people…”

  “We know about Henry, Fiona and Mary Beth,” Stan said. “And Mrs. Patel here. Who was the fifth one?”

  Atticus Brown pursed his mouth.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Every pair of eyes in the room stared at him.

  “How can you be not sure? You don’t know who you gave the note to?”

  “Meera, believe me. I had a letter or two in my pocket. I dropped it somewhere. Maybe in a grocery store or at a gas station. I don’t know. It must have fallen out when I pulled out my wallet.”

  “You need to think harder than that,” Stan warned.

  “The only time you went to the grocery store was Christmas Eve,” Walter said. “Your mother ran out of flour.”

  “That’s right,” Atticus cried. “That’s when I ran into that old hag.”

  “Err, who?” Stan asked uncomfortably.

  “That Lucas woman!” Atticus leered. “Miss High and Mighty I’m Too Rich for This Town!”

  I felt my heart speed up. I stole a glance at Tony. He was thinking exactly the same thing. So was Stan. By some silent agreement, none of us said anything.

  “Go on,” Stan ordered. “Why do you remember her?”

  “She had like two hundred items in her cart. I just had the bag of flour. Everyone in line was okay with me checking it out first. But that woman! She started giving me a hard time.”

  “So? What did you do?”

  Atticus smiled.

  “I ignored her. I fished out my wallet, paid up and was out before she finished yelling at me.”

  “When did you notice your note was missing?” Stan asked.

  “Sometime after Christmas?” Atticus thought out loud. “I was occupied sleeping off the Christmas dinner Mama made. And then I was partying with my buddies around New Year.”

  “So you didn’t look for them until you got bored again?” I seethed.

  “Who was your next target?” Stan demanded. “Who was next on your radar?”

  “I hadn’t quite figured that out.”

  “Did you intend to send a letter to that Lucas woman?” I asked.

  “They’re not on my paper route,” Atticus said. “And everyone knows that woman’s an alcoholic. She’s getting worse day by day, but nothing secret about it.”

  There was a deathly silence in the room.

  “We will keep on investigating,” Stan declared. “But there is a good chance the letters were behind your mother getting killed. Under the circumstances, I cannot allow you to leave town.”

  “But we’re flying to London in two days!” Atticus bellowed, springing up from his chair.

  Stan’s expression hardened.

  “I don’t think so, Mr. Brown.”

  Walter was openly crying now.

  “Where did we go wrong, boy?” he sobbed. “Your mother did everything possible for you. We tried to ignore the drinking and the gambling, hoping you would straighten up one day. And now? Now you’ve killed your mother.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt her, Pops. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!”

  Atticus Brown almost looked contrite. But no one was buying it.

  “You’re no son to me. Get out of my sight. Get out!”

  Pappa continued to pat Walter on the back. Atticus Brown got up and walked out. We heard a car start and drive away.

  “Why don’t you stay with us for a while, Walter?” Motee Ba said gently.

  I left my mother and grandparents consoling Walter as Tony and I walked out with Stan.

  Chapter 30

  Stan looked beaten as he settled into the couch in the guest house living room. I offered him a soda, popping a can open for myself. Tony was already draining his.

  Stan was really disturbed because he even refused the dr
ink.

  “Listen to me, Meera,” he said urgently, motioning me to sit. “Let the police take it from here. You need to promise me you will lay off now.”

  “Whatever you say, Stan,” I said meekly.

  I had no intention of pulling out just when things were getting interesting. Stan and Tony both gave me a look. They know me well. In Tony’s case, too well.

  “You willing to shadow her until this blows over?” Stan nudged Tony.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Relax guys! Naomi Lucas can barely stand up straight, she’s so drunk most of the time. She’s not going to harm me. I’ll be a mile away before she even gets to me.”

  “That woman is dangerous, Meera!” Stan warned. “How can you still doubt that? If we’re right, she’s managed to kill two people. I don’t want to see you come to harm.”

  “Any idea how she did it?” Tony asked.

  “We can only guess at this point. She used some kind of scarf to strangle both women, I think. Did she actually get Brown’s letter? We need to find out.”

  “Are you going to question her directly, Stan?”

  “I’m not sure, Meera. I need to discuss this.”

  He stood up, gave me a few more dire warnings and walked out.

  “Let’s go!” I said, jumping up as soon as I heard Stan’s car drive out.

  “Where, Meera?”

  “We are going to the Lucas house.”

  “No we’re not. Did you hear a single word the man said?”

  Tony almost dragged me back to the main house. Motee Ba and Sally were in the kitchen. I peeked into the living room. Pappa and Walter were talking softly, nursing a stiff drink.

  “Can you make some chicken curry, Meera?” Motee Ba asked. “Walter likes it.”

  I wasn’t going anywhere that night. Everyone wanted to talk about only one thing at dinner, but they were quiet in deference to Walter. Jeet gave me sneaky looks and I knew he would corner me before long, asking for the scoop.

  Walter excused himself after we had barely begun. Dad spoke up when he heard the guest bed room door shut.

  “Is it true, Meera? Do you believe Naomi Lucas is the culprit?”

  “Nothing’s proven yet, but we’ve eliminated almost all other possibilities.”

  “In that case, the one that remains must be true, no matter how improbable it is.”

  “Why isn’t it probable?” I jumped at Dad. “Just because she’s a doctor?”

  “Naomi Lucas is one of the top surgeons in the South. She’s highly respected in her field.”

  “So what?”

  “Naomi’s done a lot of volunteer work, Meera. She devotes her time to helping people who can’t afford good medical care. I find it hard to believe that she would be a cold blooded killer.”

  “You need to stay away from her,” Tony spoke up. “Heed Stan’s warning. He’s right this time.”

  I knew why Tony had said all that in front of everyone. He just wanted more eyes on me, the snitch. I would take care of him later.

  There was no news from Stan for the next couple of days. My family stuck to me like glue. I grew frustrated and acted out on Saturday morning.

  “We’re out of milk, Motee Ba!” I wailed. “And everything else.”

  It had been my turn to do the groceries but I hadn’t gone out.

  “Becky can go with me.”

  Becky and I had just finished watching another movie on the DVD player.

  Motee Ba looked torn.

  “No side trips. Go straight to the store, get what we need, and come straight back home.”

  She handed me a list.

  “Can I trust you with her, Becky?”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Patel,” Becky nodded.

  We pulled out and I let out a whoop.

  “I just promised your grandma, Meera. No diversions!”

  “Come on Becky! I’m driving. What can you do if I take a turn somewhere?”

  Becky gave me a no nonsense look.

  “Okay, okay, let’s get the groceries first.”

  I was distracted as we moved from aisle to aisle. I was thinking about how to convince Becky to take a quick detour. Maybe I should just leave her behind at the store?

  I was so preoccupied I didn’t hear her walk up behind me. Then I smelt her. Or rather, smelt the nasty odor of sweat mixed with stale alcohol.

  I felt her fingers on my neck, closing in from both sides.

  “Your Dad always bragged about how smart you were. But you’re not smart enough.”

  “Hello Naomi,” I said calmly, without turning around.

  The blast of cold air from the ice cream freezer made me shiver and I felt all the cartons of ice cream swim before my eyes. I couldn’t have chosen a better place to take my last breath.

  “I warned you,” Naomi hissed. “I thought slashing your tires would send a message.”

  Becky came around the corner and screamed loudly.

  Naomi’s fingers around my throat tightened for a fraction of a second before going slack.

  A swarm of police appeared all around as I sank to the floor. Becky was beside me, saying something. Sally sat down in front of me, giving me a smile. It was her ‘Everything will be alright’ smile.

  Naomi Lucas was taken away. Becky pulled me to my feet.

  “Let’s take her to the ER, get her checked out.”

  I turned to see Motee Ba standing next to me.

  “Where did you come from?” I croaked.

  “We were right behind you,” she said. “Your mother and I …”

  My vision cleared and so did my mind. They say you have a moment of clarity when you’re about to say Ta-ta to this world. I hadn’t really been on my way out, but I had that moment of perfect clarity.

  Sally had become one of us. I couldn’t imagine my family without her anymore.

  Pappa and Dad glared at me all through dinner. Jeet kept frowning at me. I was afraid he might start bawling any time. He gets really sentimental at times.

  “What?” I cried. “It’s not my fault if she attacked me.”

  Motee Ba was frying pooris for breakfast the next morning. Sally chopped boiled potatoes for a curry. This was more special than the usual Sunday breakfast. I guessed it was all for me.

  A car drew up outside. Stan walked in soon after. Before Stan could say a word, I heard Tony’s truck pull up. He walked in with Becky.

  “Why don’t you all sit in the living room?” Sally said calmly.

  Sally and Motee Ba joined us and all eyes turned to Stan.

  He took a deep breath.

  “She did it. All of it.”

  I heard Motee Ba gasp as her hands flew to cover her mouth. Tears glistened in her eyes.

  “Poor Dot…”

  “Yes. And poor Cindy Fowler.”

  “Her too?” I asked.

  Stan nodded.

  “She confessed everything when she realized we were on to her. It was like we thought.”

  “Go on, man!” Dad ordered.

  “She got one of those blasted letters. She says she found it on her kitchen table among the groceries. Atticus Brown must have dropped it in the store like he said and it fluttered into her grocery bags.”

  “What are the odds of that?” Pappa roared.

  “She did some due diligence, she says. Being smarter than the others, she traced the paper and figured out it came from the school. She zeroed in on Dot after that.”

  “But that’s all conjecture. She didn’t really know.”

  I was trying hard to understand Naomi. Unlike Henry or Mary Beth, she hadn’t actually confided in Dot.

  “Well, she made up her mind it was Dot Brown who wrote that note,” Stan sighed.

  “Why didn’t she talk to Dot?” Dad asked. “She has plenty of money. Why didn’t she think of paying off her blackmailer?”

  “I had the same question,” Stan said. “I’m still not sure I understand.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “So she lost her
head when she saw Dot at that party. And she strangled her?”

  Stan shook his head.

  “She planned the whole thing. She had heard Dot wanted to be President of WOSCO. She talked to Mary Beth Arlington and offered her house for the party. She planned how she was going to kill Dot. The scarf was part of her plan.”

  “So there was a scarf!” I said, triumphantly.

  “We found it in her closet, in a shoe box.”

  “Did it have any stains on it? Or splotches?” I wanted to know if I remembered right.

  “Those splotches as you call them were the key to her whole plan, Meera.”

  The tension in the room escalated.

  “Dot arrived early with some of the ladies, like Mrs. Patel here or Sylvie or Mary Beth. Naomi was in and out of the room. It was her own house, after all. She sweet talked Dot into wearing the scarf, saying it went very well with her dress. She told Dot she had to look the part of President.”

  “Dot wouldn’t have wanted to be impolite,” Motee Ba said softly.

  “Probably,” Stan nodded.

  “Naomi Lucas put the scarf around Dot’s neck, arranging it just so. This is where the stains or splotches come in.”

  “Go on,” Tony urged Stan.

  “There’s a master switch in an alcove in their living room. It controls all the lights in that room. Naomi waited until there was a crowd and Dot was surrounded by a few people. She didn’t plan to be found standing near Dot, but she wanted others there so they would be the suspects.”

  “Wow,” I muttered.

  “Dot got on her nerves by standing near the door all the time. But then she walked to the other end of the room. Naomi was ready with the light switch.”

  “No need to touch the breaker box,” I mumbled.

  “Nope. She knew exactly where the switch was. She even put a plant in front of it to hide it.”

  “Did she have infra red glasses?” Jeet asked, wide eyed.

  “She had put some special paint on the scarf,” Stan sighed. “It made the scarf glow in the dark.”

  “Diabolical!” Dad breathed.

  “She got it from her daughter’s craft supplies,” Stan explained. “Soon as the lights went off, there was an uproar. Naomi only had eyes for the scarf. She pushed her way to it and strangled the person wearing the scarf. She ran back to her original spot and switched the light back on.”