Gracie shuddered involuntarily. I really hope she doesn’t ask me to investigate his death further, she thought. I’ve got to keep Petra’s secret. It wasn’t Hazel or her sulky pool boy. What about Myron Flores? He had given them a lot of good information as it turned out.
But what was it about him that was off? She thought back to when he first caught her attention. Apropos of nothing, he was suddenly grinning before the meeting even started. Shortly afterwards the two women laughed about somebody taking a cooking course.
That was it! Myron was grinning before the sarcastic comment about the macaroni and cheese was made. Now what did that woman say to begin with? ‘Did she go back to…’ Sounds like another missing woman..
Gracie polished off her drink. She was going to check into her latest client Myron. Good thing she had promised to meet his Dad. She could beard the lion in his den.
Later that night, Myron received a phone call from Mark.
“What do you mean you hired Gracie Noseworthy? She’s a busybody. Her name is mentioned in the papers as helping the police to solve murders. We don’t need her sniffing around!”
Myron was taken aback. Mark had never talked to him like that. Mark was changing of late. He was talking a lot more about some woman he had met called Jasmine.
“Gracie is just as sweet as pie. I hired her about this Munson thing. Don’t worry Mark, I’ve got it all under control.”
The two friends chatted about more pleasant things, the venting system in the greenhouse, the proper method to prune roses and other such things. Both felt much better at the end of the call.
Still, Myron sat thinking after he hung up. He opened and closed the special scissors he bought when he started going over to Mark’s to trim the thyme. Perhaps he should reconsider his friendship with Mark. Time would tell.
Don’t Get Up On The Wrong Side Of The Bed!
Conrad really liked Julia. She reminded him of a beautiful dream that misted away when you woke. He could never quite figure out what he liked about her; was it simply that she was the first young woman that had been nice to him since he got out of prison?
Or was it because she was so pretty and seemed so innocent? And yet, he also admired her depth. When she revealed part of her story at the garden party for death, he felt himself tear up. He could identify with depression and suicidal ideation.
Conrad needed someone to talk to. He had called on Gracie Noseworthy before and she had helped him greatly; she even let him stay in her spare bedroom. Even though he knew her number off by heart, he got his wallet out and carefully unfolded the clipping that was so precious to him. It read:
“Did you do something bad, but can’t quite remember? Did your neighbor do something bad and you want to get the goods on them? Contact Gracie Noseworthy Investigations at 555-2368. I sniff out trouble!”
It was this little clipping that changed Conrad’s entire life. Yes, he would phone Gracie; she would know what to do.
***
Julia woke up with such a keen sense of happiness, she started to sing one of the late Mr. Pitre’s favorite songs.
“One hundred bottles of beer on the wall, a hundred bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around, ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall!”
She jumped out of bed, threw on a cotton dress and ran to the backyard to see her garden. It had grown considerably since Brett; her late husband had disappeared some months before. She turned on the fountain she had installed and watched as the water flowed down the sculpture from the tap beside a little girl to where a little boy was washing a dog in a bucket.
She had named all three figures in the sweet tableau.
“Good morning Della, and Tom and Bam-Bam! How are you all this morning?” Fortunately, she wasn’t expecting them to answer.
Julia then walked to the fence and dead-headed the petunias growing out of brightly colored gumboots she had nailed to the fence. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the dozens of whirly-gigs twirling in the slight breeze. Notwithstanding the profusion of flowers, Julia had several barren spots in her backyard, all carefully prepared for the remaining projects on her list.
Her thrift store magazines had talked about a moonlight garden. That was going to be thrilling! She had purchased several allium bulbs; but still had not decided on which flowers were going to accompany them. She wanted ones that had not only highly reflective petals, but interesting shapes in silhouette. Because she was unsure, she put that project on hold.
Without even eating breakfast, she started in on her current project. It was hard work but was going to be fantastic when it was done! It was a riot of color already. Yesterday, she had gone to a tire store and scrounged around in their cast off pile, gathered a dozen tires of varying sizes and brought them home and washed them. She was now painting them; each had a distinctive color. Steadily mauve, lime green, butter yellow, turquoise, and forest green tires appeared. Julia went on to paint a red tire, a white tire and a pink one. She liked the yellow and turquoise so much she painted another two tires those colors.
It was a long morning, so she left the last two tires unpainted and went in her home for breakfast.
“Well, that morning flew by!” she said, “It’s already 11:30. I may as well have tacos for brunch.”
She checked her phone and noticed that Conrad had phoned several times. Did they have an appointment to do something? Julia didn’t think so. She’d call him back after she had eaten. Another thought occurred to her; maybe he could help her arrange the tires in a pyramid against the back fence?
Not that she really needed his help. She had done all of the other work herself, with the exception of the underground irrigation. The late Mr. Pitre, bless his drunken heart, had helped her with that.
And of course, she was ever so grateful he had killed her husband and buried him in her front yard.
Julia added some hot salsa and guacamole to her tacos. It was a shame Mr. Pitre died. She had grown accustomed to walking with him the short distance around the fountain in her front yard to his home when he stumbled homewards from the pub on the weekends. Perhaps she should get a dog after all; she read that they enjoy regular walks.
***
Gracie gave Conrad a huge hug when she greeted him on her door step.
“My goodness me, it’s been ages! I hear good things about you. Please come in! Ever since I picked up the phone and said your name, the kitties have been talking up a storm. They miss you terribly!”
On cue, Zoey and Frank ran up to Conrad, mewing and curling around his legs.
“Why hello there cutie-pies! How are you? How have you been? I’ve missed you too.”
Conrad spent some time frolicking with the cats while Gracie got out a new file folder just in case he had another job for her.
“It’s not really a job, more of a conversation I need. I’ll gladly pay your regular fee,” Conrad began.
“Oh no, let’s just see how things go, before any money changes hands. Is this about Julia?” Gracie asked.
Conrad raised his eyebrows. “Now how did you get there?”
“I saw you two at the garden party and then at Las Vegans plus you keep checking your phone. I’m guessing your waiting for a text from Julia. I was wondering though, is this a little soon for you? After all, your Mom recently died, and I didn’t know if you have fully processed that event.”
Conrad nodded. “You see, I haven’t got a sponsor since I came out of prison. I’ve been going to the meetings and I’ve been staying sober, but I haven’t really clicked with anybody. Even though I have been sober for three years, I still need to work on my life skills.”
“So you’d like to talk things over with me while your sponsor is ‘in absentia’ shall we say?”
Conrad grinned. “Nice legalese, Gracie. Yes. I’d like you to be my ‘amicus curiae’.”
“And what is the case before the court?”
“Several issues.” Conrad again looked serious.
Zoey was having no
ne of it and jumped in his lap. No friend of Zoey Noseworthy was going to feel down hearted. She would cheer him up! And if he also happened to be an excellent scratcher of necks, so be it. She climbed up his chest and began nuzzling his chin with the occasional head butt.
Gracie smiled. “Guess she decided you needed some extra loving. Please, go on.”
“My reputation. How would I be viewed if I take up with a married woman? I know her husband deserted her nearly a year ago and is quite likely dead…”
“And how did you get there Conrad?”
“It’s the truck. Julia told me that Brett would never let her drive his truck. So he is either living in some country where you can’t drive a truck or dead.”
“What about in prison?”
“Julia checked when he first went missing and she used to do a series of monthly phone calls to the police, the hospitals in the area, things like that. So it’s not only my reputation, but her reputation that I am worried about as well. I like it here in Huckleberry. I don’t want people thinking that I took advantage of a naive young woman and run me out of town.”
Gracie clucked her tongue. “Conrad, you’re a home owner now. Nobody can ‘run you out of town’ for bad behavior. What are the other issues troubling you?”
“Julia told me she stopped phoning; she stopped searching for her husband months ago. She told me there was no point. It worries me. In prison I learned to be highly sensitive to bull…” Conrad stopped what he was going to say and amended the word. “Highly sensitive to balderdash. I don’t think Julia is lying to me about anything, but the certainty she has that her husband is dead, truck usage aside, has me concerned.”
Gracie got up and made a pot of herbal tea. “It has me concerned as well. Anything else?”
“Oddly enough, my Mom had some beautiful clothing. When I was about twelve, she just started wearing pajama’s all the time. I had completely forgotten about her dresses and pantsuits and things until I started cleaning out the house. She kept her clothes in garment bags, so they all look brand new. I would like to donate the whole works of them, but I really don’t want to see anybody else wearing them. Does that make sense?”
Gracie got up and gave Conrad a hug. Zoey put out a paw as if to say, ‘he’s mine’ and left it there until Gracie placed the mug of cinnamon and orange blossom tea on the side table beside Conrad and returned to her own chair.
“I think I know what you mean. When my husband died, I finally emotionally able to donate his clothing about six months later. I couldn’t bear to see anyone in his clothes, so I drove to a city about four hours away and dropped them in the donation bin there. Another thing, Conrad, not to be indelicate, but no self-respecting woman would wear a pantsuit these days. I think a lot of your Mom’s clothing might not be, shall we say, fashionable and therefore not wearable.”
Conrad sipped his tea. “You know, I did see a lot of shoulder pads in the blazers. But still, I’ll do what you did. Drive to a city far away and donate them. I do have more issues, if you have time?”
His hostess nodded.
“It’s this lack of routine that’s making me feel weird; unsettled. I wake up expecting bells to ring, people to be talking, guards to be telling me what to do. I now have the freedom I longed for, but I am more anxious than when I was in prison.” Conrad sipped more tea. “It’s almost as though I need an authority figure to be accountable to.”
“To paraphrase a famous author, your mind needs discipline in order to know freedom. Set yourself up a routine and stick to it,” Gracie advised.
“I’ll give it a try. So my last issue for now is about Julia again. I don’t really feel comfortable being alone with her and I just can’t get a handle on her character. When we talk on the phone, the conversation starts off strong; we’re laughing and joking, but then she seems to switch gears and dismisses me. I don’t know how to get to know her better.”
Gracie smiled. “One word. Bowling.”
“What? You’re joking, aren’t you?”
She shook her head. “No Conrad, bowling brings a person’s true colors to the fore. You may find out that you are, in fact, not a good sport when you lose.” She pointed to herself and mugged. “You may also find out that you are very competitive and tend to get a little cutthroat.” She again pointed to herself and made a face. “But the wonderful thing about bowling is that you can observe other people’s qualities, both good and bad, while you’re having fun! I just happen to be on a bowling team, and a temporary vacancy will be opening up while my friends Dave and Pauline Shufeldt are on vacation. You and Julia could come and join our team.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever bowled in my life, but it looks like fun. I also like being able to check out if Julia is a good sport or not and find out if I’m one! I’ll text her! What time?”
Gracie pursed her lips. “There is one drawback though, the name of our team. Because it’s primarily made up of cops, and because most of us were too tipsy to register a better name, my boyfriend named us “The Huckleberry Blue Balls.”
Conrad burst into laughter. He could not stop laughing. He finally gasped out, “It would be an honor to be on a team called the Huckleberry Blue Balls!”
Zoey sneezed several times. These humans could be disgusting at times. She then lifted her leg to begin grooming, but Conrad gently pushed her off his lap. She walked stiffly to the sunny spot in the front window. Yes, these humans were just disgusting.
***
Westminster chimes sounded as Trudy-Faye repeatedly pressed the doorbell.
The householder opened the door and said, “Isn’t that the most beautiful sound ever? I could just stand here and listen to it over and over.”
Julia Smith then reached in front of Trudy-Faye and pressed the bell again. “Isn’t it just lovely?”
“This is an official visit, Julia. I’ve come to your home today as the President of the Garden Club. We are very displeased with this, this flower display.” Trudy-Faye pointed in the direction of the four metal bedposts stuck in the ground. In between each set of two, a vibrant bed of marigolds shone.
Julia reached her hand out and poked Trudy-Faye in the stomach.
“Did we get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” she asked.
Trudy-Faye could not believe what just happened. This snippet of a girl was giggling and not taking Trudy-Faye seriously.
“Come here!” the President ordered and walked toward the marigolds. Unfortunately, she didn’t realize that the heap of marigolds was due to the mound of dirt that covered a layer of concrete. Trudy-Faye’s foot did not sink in the soil as she thought it would but banged into the edge of the concrete. Trudy-Faye yelled “Ow!” and fell over.
Julia was amused. “Would you like me to get you a pillow so you can sleep on my garden bed?” she asked. She walked over to where Trudy-Faye was lying. With a sweep of her arm, Julia asked, “Or would you prefer to sleep on this bed?”
Trudy-Faye groaned and said, “You idiot!”. She attempted to sit up but ended up rolling towards Julia.
Julia looked at the crushed flowers and frowned.
“Excuse me, Trudy-Faye Gervais, but I’d like you to know that I do read. As the owner of this property, and according to Huckleberry residential zoning laws, I have the right to augment, decorate or otherwise adorn my property so long as no injury befalls any persons or animals or impedes their right of way on a public sidewalk.”
Trudy-Faye’s jaw dropped.
“You are welcome to lay there until you feel ready to leave but don’t linger. I’m sure the Garden Club needs their President for important matters.”
Julia started to walk away and then snapped her fingers. She remembered something else she had read in a book once.
“I’d like you to think about what you’ve done and when you have formulated your apology, you may deliver it to me in person.” Julia went to walk away again, but turned back and said, “And I’ll give you a hint about the things you should apologize f
or: you have ruined my flowers, insulted me and my home and you are masquerading as some sort of authority on gardening when your own yard looks like a dog’s breakfast.” Julia said all this without rancor or raising her voice. She smiled, “Toodles.”
Trudy-Faye decided she would just lay there and re-group, but the oddest smell seemed to be coming from the marigolds. Like something had crawled in a hole and died. Probably the sewer line, she thought. She quickly got up, looked at Julia’s front door and decided not to do two things. She would not tell Julia about the suspected break in the sewer line and she certainly would not apologize.
Julia watched through the curtains as Trudy-Faye walked quickly to the street and got in her car. Julia had decided to not do a couple things as well. One, she would not insist on an apology and two, she would not tell Trudy-Faye that she had a marigold stuck to her behind.
***
“I’m just supposed to knock down those pins with this ball?” Julia asked.
“Basically yes. Just throw the ball and then we can see what you’ve got. Don’t worry, we know you haven’t bowled before,” Gracie said good naturedly. She was pleased that Conrad had asked Julia to join them.
The Huckleberry Blue Balls had their shoes on and were ready to roll with their substitute team members, Julia Smith and Conrad Jeffries. Julia wanted to go first.
Julia looked at the Gracie, Ted, Mark and Conrad and asked again, “Just knock down those pins with this ball? You guys aren’t pulling my leg are you?” She turned, picked up the first ball with her right hand and without any pause, took three steps and smoked the ball down the lane. She hit just to the right of the one pin. She got a strike.
“That’s all you do?” she asked, still worried the group was somehow pulling a prank.
The group had been stunned into silence. After Julia asked her question, they broke into loud cheering.
“Unbelievable!”
“Way to go!”
Gore in the Garden Page 18