Pumpkin Spice & a Body on Ice

by Willow Monroe

  “Was everything okay?” Poppy asked.

  The chief seemed distracted and barely answered her with a nod. We were all slowly adjusting to his quiet, almost always official demeanor but this was different, too.

  “He didn’t finish his omelet,” I said after Chief Whitt was gone. “And he only ate one slice of his whole wheat toast.”

  “I don’t think he was any happier about that announcement than we were,” Poppy told her.

  “I don’t think he had much of a choice,” I added, remembering what I’d heard of the conversation.

  Somehow we made it through the rest of the morning rush. When our very capable lunch staff came in, Poppy and I were usually ready to escape to the relative quiet of our office. Since Poppy is hell bent on fitting into that wedding dress that she bought three years ago, she started going for a quick walk every morning.

  She’s been doing it for about a month, walking down to the old bridge that crosses the railroad tracks. Then she trots up the steps, crosses the bridge, takes a sharp turn around the little park at the top of the hill and comes back the same way. She always invites me to go and I always refuse, grab coffee and a cupcake and sit in our tiny office-slash-storage room, waiting for her to return. No one has any idea how much that old bridge scares me. I’ve had nightmares about it since I was a child.

  Just like any other morning, Poppy took off her pink apron and ducked out the front door.

  I was on my second cupcake when she returned. “Took a little longer this morning,” I said, glancing at my watch.

  “Yeah,” Poppy said, breathing a little hard, her cheeks pink.

  Taking off her jacket, she sat down at the desk and began carefully counting money from the register. I noted that her hands trembled a little while I sipped coffee.

  “Did you see how handsome Tom looked this morning?” Poppy asked, her voice sounding a little bit shaky as well.

  “I did,” I said. “And I don’t think he even noticed Nadine, even though she was sitting at his table.”

  “Yeah, too bad there wasn’t any other place for her to sit,” Poppy snapped, visibly upset.

  “Well, we were pretty busy this morning.”

  Poppy missed the sarcasm in my voice completely. “Oh, please. She was only in the diner because Tom was here.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, my thoughts returning to the city council’s decision. “And she saved her little outburst until after he left.”

  After a few moments, Poppy seemed to have calmed down some. She glanced up at me. “And you looked pretty cozy whispering to Chief Whitt.”

  “Uh-huh.” I barely heard her.

  With a sigh, Poppy returned to counting money.

  “When you’re finished with that, I’ll take the deposit to the bank,” I finally said. “The fresh air will do me good.”

  Poppy looked up in surprise.

  “Yes, I know,” I said, holding up both hands. “I hate going to the bank, but a quick walk might do me good. It works for you.”

  Poppy’s mouth dropped open.

  I never, ever walk anywhere unless I have to and I’d actually turned down her offer of a friendly walk earlier. But then again, this had been a strange morning all the way around.

  “Okay, it’ll be just another few minutes,” Poppy said, returning to her task. Was she trying not to smile? I couldn’t tell.

  I sipped my coffee and didn’t say another word until Poppy finally put the money and checks into a blue zipper bag along with the deposit slip and handed it to me.

  “You know,” she began, hanging onto one end of the heavy pouch until I looked at her. “This might not be the disaster you think it is. I mean, Chief Whitt likes you. That’s pretty obvious....”

  “He doesn’t like sweets though,” I cut her off in mid-sentence. “And baking spinach and feta in a paper cup does not make it a cupcake. That’s where I think we’re headed.”

  Poppy let go of the money pouch.

  “I’ll be back in a few,” I said, trying not to sound as angry and depressed as I felt.

  At the back door, I stopped and slipped into my purple jacket that always hung there. Then I pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool October morning.

  Behind the diner is a cobblestone patio of sorts, then a row of dumpsters that serve us and the other businesses along this section of town known as The Wharf. Right behind the dumpsters is the railroad tracks. The diner used to be a warehouse way, back when Sugar Hill was a bustling metropolis. Located just down from the train station, where passengers would board, trains would stop there and unload flour and other goods for the stores in town. Mr. Richardson had bought it from the train station when they no longer needed it and turned it into a diner.

  Tucking the money pouch under my arm, I began walking along the cobblestones toward the train station. I figured to cut down the little side street where the historical society’s office was located right on the corner. That led out to Main Street and from there it was just a few more blocks to the bank. There are no short cuts in Sugar Hill.

  That’s when I spotted what looked like a pile of clothing lying on the railroad tracks just past the bridge. Curious, fighting my fear of that bridge, I moved toward it. Something pink and lime green and...

  I gasped and covered my mouth with both hands to keep from screaming.

  Oh, my Lord, it was Nadine Krump, lying so still and broken, face up on the tracks just under the bridge.

  A train whistle sounded, echoing across the floor of the valley. The ten o’clock freight train was right on time.

  “Nadine,” I called out, even though I knew she would never answer me. “Nadine.”

  Tucking the blue pouch inside my jacket, I zipped it up. Then I hurried toward Nadine, screaming her name the whole time. The train whistle shrieked again, closer now and I knew I had to get her...her body...off the tracks. Part of me knew I should leave it alone. There would be an investigation, even if it was suicide, but I just couldn’t bear to leave her there for the train to....

  “Nadine, honey,” I moaned when I saw her up close. There was a big scratch on her face and her head was tilted at an impossible angle. Her blue eyes were open, gazing up at the sky. “Nadine.”

  When I finally got to her side, I wasn’t sure where to start. Did I grab her ankles and drag her? Did I grab her arms? Did I just pick her up and fling her across my shoulder?

  That train whistle howled again, long and loud. It barreled toward us, showing no signs of slowing.

  With no other choice, I grabbed her Nikes (black with a lime green Swoosh) and pulled her off the railroad tracks. She was heavier than I imagined and the way her head jiggled along the ground made my stomach do a little flip. It took every ounce of strength that I had to move her.

  When that train blasted by, she was resting safely on the concrete patio behind the quilt shop that was a couple of doors down from the diner. Gasping for breath I fumbled with my cell phone, trying to call 911, trying to see the screen through the tears.

  Chapter Three

  Poppy was my next call and she came flying out the back door of the diner, reaching me long before the EMTs or police could get there.

  “Starla, are you okay?” Poppy screeched, hugging me and then feeling my arms and hands as though something of mine was broken.

  “No, I’m fine, just shaken up. It’s poor Nadine...” I shouted to be heard over the sound of the train screaming past us. “I couldn’t make Thelma down at the police station understand what I was trying to report. She’s so hard of hearing.”

  Poppy looked over my shoulder at the crumpled, broken figure sprawled on the cobblestones. The wind stirred up by the train blew strands of her hair around her face and in her eyes. She pushed them out of the way angrily.

  “And then, she thought I was trying to invite her to a bridge game at the diner with Nadine,” I sobbed.

  “But she finally understood you, so I’m sure they’re on the way,” Poppy said, her mouth close to my ear
.

  “She was on the railroad tracks right under the bridge. I had to get her off there. A train was coming and...and...” I sobbed.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Poppy crooned, hugging me again. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “It looked like she jumped or fell off the bridge,” I said, gaining some control over myself as I heard the sirens.

  Poppy’s only response was to hug me a little closer.

  My legs were still shaking when Chief Whitt’s SUV skidded to a halt at the train station just yards away. He trotted toward us, his expression unreadable because of his wide-brimmed hat and those dark shades. He stopped at Nadine’s body, knelt and felt for a pulse.

  The EMTs came screaming into the lot, grabbed their gear and raced toward us. Just as they arrived, Chief Whitt stood up, turned to face them and pointed down to the motionless form.

  The last of the train cars whistled past us, leaving a strange silence in the air.

  “Who found her?” Chief Whitt asked, looking from Poppy to me.

  I raised my hand slightly. “I did.”

  “Just lying here?” he asked, all business as he stepped aside to give the rescue squad all the room they needed.

  “No, she was on the railroad tracks and...” I pointed to where Nadine had been.

  “How did she get over here?”

  “I pulled her,” I said, knowing immediately it was the wrong thing to say.

  “You moved the body?”

  “A train was coming. I didn’t want her to get...hurt.” The last word came out as a whisper.

  “She’s gone, sir,” one of the EMTs said quietly, looking up from Nadine’s body.

  “Call the coroner,” Chief Whitt snapped. He snatched his phone off of his belt and in clipped tones instructed two of his officers to get down there. “It looks like suicide, but I still want this place secured until we know for sure.”

  I was suddenly freezing cold and trembling all over.

  “Chief I need to get Starla back inside,” Poppy said. “She’s freezing.”

  Chief Whitt hesitated, his face still unreadable. “I’ll be in to get a statement. Neither of you leave the premises.”

  “Yes, sir,” Poppy said, and steered me toward the diner.

  By this time a small crowd had gathered, and I was more than happy to get back to my little office. Poppy was having none of that, though and guided me to the stairs. Just inside the back door is a set of stairs that leads up to my little one bedroom apartment over the diner.

  I sold the house I’d inherited from my grandmother to help pay for the diner and moved into this apartment right after that. No one had lived here for years and I enjoyed cleaning and painting and making it my own. The wide-planked wooden floors needed some work but they were clean. I filled it with second hand furniture and colorful, gently used rugs that I found here and there. There was something purple in each and every room which always made me happy. Today I barely noticed.

  Once Poppy settled me into my cozy living room, she went into the kitchen. I heard her filling the tea kettle with water, heard her place it on the stove. As I listened to her rattle around for a mug and then get tea out of the canister by the sink, my mind reeled with the enormity of what had just happened.

  Nadine was dead. That in itself was hard to believe. Nadine and I had gone all through school together. True, I didn’t particularly like her, but it seemed impossible that she would jump off of the old railroad bridge. She had just been in the diner and ate breakfast. Why would you do that if you were going to commit suicide?

  “Here, this will warm you up,” Poppy said, placing a hot cup of tea in my cold hands.

  “Poppy, you walk that bridge every morning. Did you see Nadine up there today?” I asked, still trying to make sense of the whole situation.

  Poppy looked away from me. She swallowed hard and finally walked away to look out of my window that faced the railroad tracks.

  “I didn’t walk the bridge this morning,” Poppy said, without turning around. “Nadine was on the bridge and I didn’t want to have to face her after what she said this morning in the diner.”

  “Was she alone?” I asked, thinking maybe she did go up there to commit suicide. Now Poppy was going to feel guilty about not going up there. Perhaps she could have stopped it...

  “She was with Tom.”

  That brought me up short. “Nadine was on the railroad bridge this morning with Tom?”

  Poppy nodded and still didn’t turn to look at me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “He was wearing that dark green jacket with the hood pulled up over his head.”

  “Were they arguing or walking or...?”

  Poppy shrugged. “They were standing close together but it looked like they were just talking. Part of me wanted to wait for him at the foot of the steps but I just...I just couldn’t bear to face him after seeing him with Nadine.”

  “So you came back to the diner?” I asked, remembering Poppy’s walk had taken longer that morning. She had been upset when she returned but it didn’t really register until now, here in my quiet living room.

  “No. I circled downtown and came back to the diner in the opposite direction,” Poppy said, finally turning to face me. “I must have seen her just before she jumped.”

  “So did Tom,” I reminded her.

  She opened her mouth to reply but a soft knock on my door interrupted her.

  “That’s Chief Whitt,” I said.

  “What should we tell him?” Poppy asked, her voice small, quivering.

  “We’ll tell him the truth,” I answered.

  Chief Whitt made my apartment feel smaller than it really was. His hat almost touched the narrow doorway from the kitchen into the living room. Oh, there was a little wiggle in my heart when I saw him standing there, but it wasn’t the usual kind that sent shivers down my spine and made me feel warm all over.

  “Please have a seat,” I said, motioning toward the wingback chair opposite the sofa where Poppy sat close beside me.

  He sat, took off his hat and placed it in his lap. “Just tell me what happened,” he said in a quiet, steady voice.

  This was serious business, I thought as I watched him cross his long legs and wait for me to collect my thoughts. It also occurred to me that he should be writing something down, but maybe that just happened on TV.

  “I was going to take the money to the bank,” I explained, reaching out to touch the blue pouch lying on the coffee table between us.

  “Is that something you normally do?” he asked.

  “Um, no, but after the announcement the Mayor made this morning, I needed to take a walk and clear my head a bit.”

  “Seems that announcement shook up a few people,” he said, looking from Poppy to me and back again. “Were you alone?” Clipped. Abrupt.

  “Yes.”

  He nodded for me to continue, his dark eyes even darker than before.

  “Anyway, I saw what I thought were some clothes strewn across the railroad track and when I got closer I realized it was Nadine,” I continued.

  “So you moved the body?”

  I nodded. “A train was coming. If there was any chance she was still alive, I didn’t want her to get killed by a train,” I finished, shuddering at the thought.

  “How did you move her?”

  I thought back to that frantic, panicky moment of not knowing what to do. “I grabbed her ankles and pulled her off the tracks.”

  “Evidently flipping her onto her back in the meantime,” he finished.

  Again, I struggled to remember. “No. No she was on her back, arms spread out to the side. I just pulled her off the track.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I called your office and then Poppy’s cell phone,” I answered with a shrug.

  “What do you think happened?” he asked.

  I had no idea. “Suicide?”

  “I’ll ask around to see if anyone saw anything else. Maybe she talked to someone,” he sa
id and stood up to leave.

  Poppy remained silent and seated while I showed Chief Whitt to the door. His boots made heavy thudding sounds on the stairs and I waited until he pushed open the back door and stepped outside before closing my apartment door.

  “So I guess that’s that,” I said, coming back into the living room.

  “What if it wasn’t suicide?” Poppy asked.

  “Either way, we should probably have told him about seeing Tom on the bridge with Nadine before she jumped,” I said quietly.

  “I was afraid I’d get in trouble,” Poppy said quietly. “Or get Tom in trouble.”

  “Or we might just be worrying about nothing,” I assured her. “We’ll make that decision when we have to.”

  “You’re right,” she said, finally standing.

  “And I still have to get this money to the bank. So, I’m off. Why don’t you knock off early today and get some rest?” I suggested.

  “I will,” Poppy said, following me down the steps.

  This time I made sure to go out through the diner and out the front door.

  Chapter Four

  Tucking the money pouch under my arm, I took a different route to the bank, one that took me away from the bridge and the train station. Once I reached Main Street (one block over) I strolled up the street toward the bank. Tiffany’s health food store, Naturally Yours, seemed to be doing brisk business today. I had never been inside the store, but I’d heard she sold protein shakes and pre-packaged healthy lunches and organic coffee. I shuddered to think what that might taste like.

  Just before I reached the bank a small, red sporty looking car pulled up to the curb and two women got out.

  “Hey, girl,” Winnie Macbeth said, running around the car to give me a hug. “I heard about this morning. Was it just awful?”

  “Yeah, it was pretty gruesome,” I confessed, hugging her back.

  “Bless your heart,” Julie, Winnie’s twin sister said, hugging me as well.

  I couldn’t help notice that they were dressed in running shorts despite the cool temperature. I also couldn’t help notice how they’d both slimmed down over the summer and was surprised to learn they were still running regularly.