Soap on a Rope

by Barbara Silkstone

  Puff walked to the pantry, stood on her hind legs and pawed at the door. She was in the mood for kibble. I replaced the fishy salmon with dry cat food. She gobbled it down, sipped some water, and made a beeline for her litter pan.

  A bit rubbery, my two-day-old Greek salad became a quick nosh. I rinsed my empty plate and put it in the dishwasher.

  Within minutes I was setting up the ingredients for soap making. I spread brown paper over the countertop, lined up the rectangle-shaped soap molds, the container of unscented soap base, lavender essential oils, and a jar of finely crushed lavender.

  The flowers had come from Digby’s Bee Farm. After I picked a bushel last month, I used a mortar and pestle to crush the blossoms into a fine paste and let it dry.

  If we worked fast, Lizzy and I could have a batch cooled and wrapped by morning. Kal would have to be patient. He did say most recent batch, but this would have to suffice.

  I kept two bars of the first batch of soap sealed in Tupperware to be used for consistency. All new batches must match that original. Customers who bought lavender soap in June should expect the exact same fragrance and color as the soap they bought in March. Very scientific. Maybe I should wear a white lab coat.

  Puff returned, leaped to one of the chairs and studied me with her big blue eyes.

  “Want to smell the soap?” I took the lid off and offered it to her. She sneezed.

  Staring at the soap in the plastic container it struck me that I had the lavender soap Kal wanted.

  “I’ve got to call Kal!” I yelled scaring Puff off her perch. “He must be trying to match the killer’s soap to our lavender soap!”

  Puff stood on the floor not sure whether to dart or stay. She leaned against the baseboard and gave me the humans-are-crazy look that only cats can muster.

  Kal answered on the second ring.

  “I’m at home. Are you nearby?” A tremor betrayed my nerves.

  He hesitated. “Is this a trap?”

  “I found a bar of lavender soap. You wanted it and I’m guessing why.” I looked at the kitchen clock. “Can you get here in the next ten minutes, pick up the soap, and leave right away?”

  At times Lizzy seemed uneasy about my bond with Kal. A sixth sense told me it would be best if she didn’t find him hanging out at my place when she arrived.

  “That’s pretty urgent. Got a heavy date?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  The kitchen clock read five-fifty. I could count on Lizzy to be late, it was a part of her DNA. She was always late.

  I slipped the soap in a plastic bag and zipped it tight.

  A quick floss and brush of my teeth, a comb through my hair, and cool damp cloth over my face was all I could accomplish before the doorbell rang.

  Kal stood framed in the peephole.

  I clicked open the door and stuffed the plastic bag with the bar of soap in his hands. He returned the favor by sticking me with Ivy’s note. “This was in your door. Don’t I get to come in?”

  “Take the soap.” I tossed Ivy’s note on the small table near the door.

  “What’s the rush?” Kal tucked the bagged soap in his jacket pocket and pushed into the foyer looking about, an odd expression on his face—curiosity with maybe a tinge of jealousy.

  “You can’t come in. Lizzy’s due here any minute. I don’t want her to think we’re working together behind her back. I forgot to tell her about the soap on the rope—no big secret. I just forgot.”

  Kal eased his way farther into the foyer.

  “This is one of my comparison bars. I didn’t have any at the shop because a guy bought it all while Ivy was babysitting the store.”

  “When,” Kal said, “was Ivy working at the shop?”

  “She was there because Lizzy and I took a day trip to Miami so it was the day Dingler died. Ivy said the customer wanted it for wedding favors.”

  “One person bought your entire inventory of soap. Did that strike you as odd, even suspicious? Especially after you knew there was soap on the rope that killed Dingler? You should have told me sooner.”

  “I should have told you what sooner? That we had a run on our soap? You want me to call you tomorrow and report how many jars of cold cream we sold?” He could be so irritating. “And speaking of withholding, how long have you suspected the soap on the rope is ours? Obviously, before you stopped in this morning.”

  “I suspected your soap was a match.” Kal said. “The lab found small pieces of crushed flowers.”

  Lizzy appeared in the doorway with WonderDog at her side, a puzzled expression on her face. “What’s going on? What’s this about our soap?”

  The history between Kal and Lizzy going back to high school days didn’t account for their reactions. They were both acting as if we’d been caught canoodling.

  “We’re going to put our cards on the coffee table.” I motioned my guests to the living room.

  Chapter 18

  Lizzy sat in an armchair, dropping her purse to the floor. The bag hit with a thud.

  Kal took the sofa. I hovered unable to sit, ready to clear up all the half-forgotten clues and one-sided secrets.

  WonderDog lay on his back at Lizzy’s feet while Puff scrambled onto his belly teasing at his chest hairs. The pets were comfortable—it was time to sort out the humans.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the soap on the rope?” Lizzys eyes were locked on me.

  “I honestly forgot. So much happened at once—Grams insisted on tracking down the killer and then the Magician’s Hat and chasing Harry Whodunit.” I smacked my palms at my sides. “I’m sorry I just plain forgot.”

  Kal leaned forward, his long legs reaching the coffee table and his hands on his knees. “The Magician’s Hat? Harry Whodunit? What is that all about? If there is a killer Grams is bound to get in his way.”

  WonderDog leaped to attention at the sound of Lizzy sighing. Puff tumbled off him, dropped to the floor, and swatted at his tail.

  “It’s okay, WonderDog.” She gave her hound a gentle smile.

  Satisfied his beloved mistress wasn’t in pain, the dog turned and poked his snoot at Puff. A cat and dog chase ensued, which allowed us to get back to business.

  “Does that dangle challenge have something to do with Nelson’s death? Are you gals withholding more evidence?” He gave us an exaggerated stern look. “I’m going to have to take you both to jail unless you fess up.”

  With a shrug, I fessed up first and Lizzy followed. By the time we finished Kal was scowling and was back to the darn soap. “A stranger bought all your lavender soap on the day Nelson died? That bit of information tied to the soap on a rope is important? You’re going to have some serious explaining to do.”

  “We couldn’t know yesterday that there was a connection. If my nose hadn’t been stuffed with fingerprint powder I probably would’ve smelled the lavender.”

  The timing rolled around in my mind like a billiard ball on an empty pool table. “We didn’t even know about the soap sale until we read Ivy’s list in the shop—the day after Nelson’s death.”

  Lizzy and I exchanged looks. “Ivy should be able to describe the soap buyer. It’s almost as if someone is trying to frame us.”

  I chewed on my lip as I watched WonderDog and Puff play. Their innocent nips and yips were strangely soothing. They finally settled in one giant ball of fur, adjusting their positions until they were comfortable. Why can’t people be more like animals—a little tussle and then a nap?

  Lizzy and Kal remained silent. I struggled to fill in the gaps.

  “I’ll track Ivy down tomorrow. I’m not up to dealing with her tonight—especially if Myron’s around. By morning he’d have his New York goon squad on their way here—if they can break out of their senior care facility.

  I’d have to face Ivy sooner or later, the latter being my preference. It’s never fun bursting bubbles but the lady presumed too much. Nonna’s Cold Cream didn’t need Macy’s business plan or
her extreme giveaways.

  I glanced at Nonna’s antique clock. Time got away from us. Almost eight. There’d be no soap making tonight.

  “I’ll trade with you,” Lizzy said. “You tell Grams that Kal made us talk. I’ll get the description of the soap buyer from Ivy.”

  “Chicken! Afraid of your own Grams?”

  She reddened.

  “You’re not capable of refusing Ivy—not with your soft heart. You’ll let her bring all her wonderful Macy’s experience to bear and we’ll end up with a little shop of horrors. Nope. I’ll handle Ivy. You break the news to Grams.”

  “If you get a description from Ivy text it to me,” Kal said. “He’s probably not a local as she knows everyone in Starfish Cove and would have told you his name. By the way, they’ll come a time when I may not be able to discuss some things with you.”

  “You tell us everything or we let Grams run the show.”

  Kal looked like he’d chugged vinegar. “I’ll share everything short of jeopardizing a conviction. But don’t tell Grams anything. No offense but she’s a loose cannon.”

  I smacked my palm against my forehead. “We can’t hold out on Grams! She’d never forgive us. Leave it to us, we’ll keep her under control.”

  Kal smiled at WonderDog and Puff as they cuddled together. He patted his jacket pocket. “I’ll get this soap to the lab. Match or not you’ll know when I know. One more thing, do not go after Rex Marchmain or his son. I’ll handle it.”

  I walked him to the door.

  “I’m glad you told me about the Masked Dangler. Now stay out of this case—you’re all too emotionally involved.”

  I smiled. “Of course we will.”

  I returned to the living room and plopped onto the sofa where Kal had been sitting. The seat was still warm. Warm butt—warm heart?

  “I have a question.” Lizzy crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there anything between you and Kal?”

  “A little friction, some competition, and a friendship.” I squinted at her. “We have a business to build. I’m not losing my focus.”

  “Just asking. It’s not that I have any feelings for him. I just don’t want to see him get hurt.” She nibbled on her thumb. “My father hurt him enough when he broke us up—he went out of his way to say nasty things about Kal’s family. He did it in front of me. Nelson Dingler—Masked Dangler—Rotten Egg.”

  I chuckled. “Rotten egg? That’s the worst insult you can think of?”

  Lizzy shrugged. “I have this idea dancing in my head. We need to spend some quiet time at my father’s apartment. Just feeling the vibes. We might get a clue that way.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. I wasn’t thinking clearly when we there right after those forensic bozos made such a mess.”

  “Grams is going to insist on coming.”

  “Of course. Besides, she has the key,” I said. “How about I pick you, Grams, and Pam up before the shop opens? I can come by at seven tomorrow morning.” Parallel parking stood in a dark corner of my mind.

  WonderDog jumped to attention as Lizzy grabbed her purse. He slurped Puff, his wide tongue covering most of her back.

  “That was some goodbye kiss!”

  I bent and scooped up my little fur ball. Together we walked Lizzy and WonderDog to the door. “See you tomorrow. Be ready to leave when I pull up.”

  “Aren’t I always ready on time?”

  I snorted.

  She giggled.

  A strong night breeze swept in as I closed the door behind her. Ivy’s note blew from the foyer table to the floor.

  With a sigh I unfolded it.

  We must meet to talk about the shop.

  I’ll see you tomorrow morning!

  Ivy

  Chapter 19

  Puff’s breath tickled my ear while the sound of the waves sweeping the shore announced morning’s arrival. The clock read six. Just enough time for a quick shower, no hair washing, and out the door.

  Cats love routine. Same time. Same steps. From the ear-breathing to the feeding to my dressing with her help, Puff had us on a schedule. After she’d marched me through our program, I kissed the top of her head, grabbed my tote and dashed out the door.

  The drive to Lizzy’s took me exactly ten minutes. Grams, Pam, Lizzy and WonderDog stood on the front porch. You could have knocked me over with a finch feather. Lizzy on time!

  Grams was very grumpy.

  Lizzy silently mouthed, “I told her about Kal.”

  Oookaay. I’d stay away from any subject vaguely related to Kal.

  “I’m driving,” Grams said, hoisting her pink trousers high up on her middle. She nodded to the Edsel.

  Please no windshield notes.

  Lizzy rode shotgun while Pam, WonderDog, and I piled into the backseat. The Edsel still had room for a basketball team.

  Grams turned the key and the car’s bad muffler gave out a hotrod roar. We bounced along the quiet Starfish Cove streets feeling every pothole. WonderDog gave me an apologetic lick on the cheek each time he fell into my lap.

  Nelson’s building was in the business section of Old Town. Three short blocks of mostly office buildings with retail shops. A tad after seven a.m. it was too early for any street parking challenges.

  Grams glanced in her side mirror, turned the hula-hoop wheel twice, and the monster mobile was tucked neatly six inches from the curb.

  Grams’ gang plus WonderDog made for a tight fit in the elevator. We rode up in the little box in silence.

  “Ignore the yellow crime tape,” Grams said. “It’s only there to keep out the riffraff.” She ferretted the apartment key from her purse. It turned in the lock with a soft click.

  We walked into a dust cloud—a fiesta of fingerprint powder. Someone left on the overhead fans multiplying the particles.

  I secured the door behind us and muffled a cough. We tiptoed into the dining room—the scene of Dingler’s last dangle. WonderDog sniffed the rug and sneezed.

  “Why are we sneaking?” Grams said. “I can do what I want and what I want is to sit here and close my eyes.”

  She plopped down on the sofa—causing an eruption of powder— facing the open plan dining area and the killer chandelier. “I’m going to be concentrating so don’t talk. Just hush!” With that she shut her eyes.

  Lizzy, Pam, and I exchanged shrugs. We each took an armchair—causing similar eruptions—settled in, and closed our eyes. I peeked once and saw WonderDog standing alert but with his eyes closed too.

  Come on vibes! I kept my eyes shut and my lips taut in my thinking mode. Was the killer—or killers— waiting for Dingler when he came home or did he let them in?

  Grams began to cough. The hacking wracked her tiny body lifting her up from her seat and plunking her down, raising even more powder. She began to gasp.

  Pam jumped up. “Grams can’t take this dust.”

  “Does that go to the roof garden?” I pointed at an L-shaped staircase that led to a landing and a door about twenty feet above our heads.

  “Nelson’s rose garden.” Grams said between coughs. “Let’s get some fresh air.”

  Pam helped Grams up the staircase. Lizzy, WonderDog, and I followed.

  Grams threw the deadbolt and we stepped through the door into a charming garden—the perfect spot for us to collect our thoughts and breathe. A huge potted ficus tree shaded a cast iron patio table with six matching chairs.

  Pam tried to help Grams into one of the chairs. She shook her head. “I got it. Not helpless yet.”

  It didn’t take Grams long to clear her coughing. “Lizzy and Olive, you better sit before Pam tries to make like a nurse with you too.”

  Pam rolled her eyes. Grams rolled her eyes. We all sat.

  A chest-high stone wall extended around the entire roof leaving no way to access the garden except through the apartment. Neighbors in the slightly taller buildings might see through the shrubbery, but this time of day the offices should all be empty.

  To my left was a patch of deep re
d American Beauties—bordered by low rising pink cabbage roses while tea roses in a muted shade of brown worked their way up a nearby trellis. Tucked under a cloak of ivy stood a small white gardener’s shed.

  Perhaps tending roses gave Nelson a sense of touching beauty in his otherwise ugly world? The image of him lugging his gardening tools, a straw hat on his head, and a bucket in his hands passed through my mind.

  From what I could see the rose petals were curling at the edges. A pity no one was tending them.

  A deep cleansing breath—out with the bad conclusions, in with the good. Who was most likely to have murdered Nelson Dingler? The man led a dark life leaving a lot of damaged people in his wake.

  The soap was the signature of someone who knew his secret identity and had seen him perform. The killer knew he’d try to grab the rope made slippery by the soap.

  Grams fluttered her hand to catch my attention. “All that coughing shook an idea loose. The Silverfish Gazette challenge was a threat that might expose the Masked Dangler’s identity—and maybe Silas’ cold case, too.”

  She cracked her knuckles again. I wished she’d stop doing that.

  “I’m thinking it was all set to go down at the Magicians’ Fusion,” Grams said. “Whoever is really behind this will be there—probably performing.”

  Her gaze flitted from me to Lizzy to Pam. “It’s going to be dangerous. But if Lizzy and Olive keep their heads, we’ll all be fine.”

  Chapter 20

  If we keep our heads?

  “Here’s my plan,” Grams said. “Olive and Lizzy, you’ll go undercover as magicians’ assistants ready to perform in the Fusion on April Fools’ Day. Magicians love to impress the ladies. Someone is bound to take a shine to you gals and let secrets slip out. All we need to know is if there was someone else besides that half-wit Whodunit involved in challenging Nelson and if so why?”

  Wow! If that was a plan, I was an aardvark. But I wasn’t going to deny Grams no matter how wild the goose chase got. Maybe her crazy scheme would pay off. Stranger things have happened…maybe.