“How much longer are you gonna take?” Deb complained. Liz had left the passenger side door open after she had lowered herself carefully, with her cane to the grass. She had set the cane aside, close enough to grasp it if necessary, while she sorted through the items in the boxes. Deb had slouched down in the seat so anyone passing by, who might know her, wouldn’t get a good look at her. She hoped that anyone who recognized the Cherokee, would think Liz was on her own, pawing through trash.
“Just a few more minutes,” Liz answered over her shoulder.” Geez,” she complained,” I’ve only been looking for a few minutes. Just be patient, will you?”
She hadn’t found much to interest her. She had no need for the usual old books, magazines, dishes and pots and pans. So far she had set aside only a few items. One was a small pillow that she thought her dog Sissy Boom Boom could use. There was a Betty Crocker Cook Book and a photo Album and she stacked them all in a pile next to the Cherokee.
One item she found was not of interest to her, but she thought, perhaps, it was in with the giveaways by mistake. She almost dismissed it at first, thinking it was an expired insurance policy, but on closer look, she saw it was a last Will and Testament. The name on the front, said Johua P. Tilton. Liz glanced at the rural type mailbox next to the road near the driveway that led off to the Cape Cod styled house across the yard in front of her. The box had the lettering ‘J. Tilton’ on its sides.
“Deb,” Liz called.” Come here a minute. I want you to see this.”
“Oh, Liz,” Deb complained lazily.” I don’t need to. Anything you want, just take it and let’s go.”
“No, I don’t want it. I just want you to come here.”
“Do I hafta?”
“Yes, you hafta.” Liz mocked in a falsetto voice.
“Now hurry on. Get out of that damn car and come here.”
Deb lifted herself upright slowly, opened the door and stepped down on to the pavement. She shuffled herself around the Cherokee and came up behind Liz.” Alright, what’s so all fired important?”
“Look at this.” Liz shoved the paper at her.
“So?”
“So, it’s someone’s will.”
“Big deal, it’s not mine.”
“Why would some one throw out a will?
“I dunno. Maybe they don’t need it any more,” Deb shrugged.
“Why not?”
“Who cares? Maybe they already died. Then they wouldn’t need it any more.”
“That’s great logic, Deb. Make sure you toss mine out after I croak. Then see if you get anything of mine.”
“You haven’t got anything. Besides, you’re not croaking for a long time yet and you don’t even have a will.”
“Well remind me someday, to do that. Right now I want you to take this will up to the house and give it to whoever lives there, just in case they threw it out by mistake.”
“Aw, Liz. Why do I have to do it? You found it. You want to give it back. You go do it.”
“Because I’m tired and that’s a long driveway. I don’t want to hobble that far with this cane. I’m starting to hurt and I might not be able to make it back.” Then with a sugary approach to the appeal, she said,” Come on, Deb. Be a peach,” Deb always liked being called a peach.” And do this for me, please. Then we can go. I’ll be in the Cherokee by the time you get back.”
Deb pursed her lips in defeat and took the paper. Without a word she hurried off to the front door of the house.
Liz had just seated herself in the passenger’s seat, with her new found goodies beside her, when she saw Deb hurrying back. There was a tall, elderly woman with pure white hair standing in the doorway, holding the will and watching Deb jogging along the driveway. The old lady’s face was narrow and wrinkled and she had a perplexed look on her face.
Without a word, Deb slid behind the wheel, cranked the engine, pushed the stick into gear and stepped on the gas. The vehicle jerked forward. Liz almost dropped the photo album, she was leafing through.
“What do you want with that?” Deb asked, glancing quickly at what Liz had.
“It’s got nice pictures in it.” Liz said.
“Isn’t that like voyeurism?” Deb sneered.” I mean looking at someone else’s private life.”
“Not really,” Liz said. In the rear view mirror, Liz could see the old woman at the curb, rummaging through the boxes. She picked up one of the boxes and headed back toward the house with it. Besides I’m not so much interested in family pictures as I am the pictures on the postcards. There’s post cards from Jamaica and Portugal. Nice places like that.”
“I still say it’s all some one else’s business. What they write on the postcards should be personal.”
“Oh, there’s nothing personal about it,” Liz retorted.” Nobody says anything personal on a postcard. It’s all the same old crap. ‘Having a wonderful time. ’Meaning, ha,ha, Look at me. I’m here and you’re not. And ‘Wish you were here. ’Meaning, I’m glad I’m me, you slob. You deserve to be right where you are.”
“You’re such a cynic. You know that Liz?”
“Yeah. Ain’t that great?” Liz said mimicking Deb’s tone, then becoming more like herself,” Like you’re not.”
“Hey what’s going on here?” Deb said as she turned the corner onto Beaumont Street. Houses were spread further apart here, tending to have larger lots between them and open acreage behind them. Liz and Deb lived here in the last house on the right side of the street. It was a one story ranch style much like most of the homes on the street. Next door, a crowd was gathered in front of the second house from the end. A Mandalyn police car was parked in front of the driveway, blocking it. A tall, lanky police officer, wearing a brown uniform of dark brown pants, tan shirt and a dark brown baseball cap style MPD hat, was writing notes in his pad while Marlee Drum stood at his side, her lips moving rapidly and her arms flailing about as she talked.
Deb pulled the Cherokee off to the side and parked behind the police car. Liz rolled down her window.” Hey Tom,” she called.” What’s going on?”
The young officer grimaced in answer. He said something to Mrs. Drum as if indicating he would be right back. He stepped up beside the Cherokee.” I can’t talk now, Aunt Liz. You know that. I’m in the middle of an investigation here,” Tom Hall said.” Just don’t concern yourself with this. I’ll talk to you later.”
“But what’s happening here?” Liz persisted.
“There’s been a break in. But, there is absolutely nothing for you to worry about. Just go on home. You’ll hear all about it later.”
“But. . . .”
“I told you, I’ll see you later. OK?” Without waiting for an answer, he spun on his heel and strode back to Marlee Drum.”
Liz settled back in her seat and sighed with resignation.” Take me home, Deb,” she said. Her voice sounded tired with defeat.
“Just like that, Liz?” Deb said starting the engine and pulling away.” You’re going to let that pip squeak of a nephew put you off like that?”
“I’m tired anyhow, Deb. I need to sleep, now. We’ll find out later what’s going on.”
“Well as soon as I drop you off, I’m going back and find out.”
“O. K. Deb. You do that.”
*****
Chapter Six
Monsters and Lollipops Page 7