Murder in the Pachysandra

by Linda A. Lavid

Muriel appraised herself in the mirror. “You think?”

  “I know.”

  Hattie watched Carlos reached for a palette of powders when the door chimed again.

  Hattie looked over. It was Wolfgang.

  “Be back in a sec,” Roxanne said to Hattie.

  At the counter, Roxanne reached below then handed something to Wolfgang.

  “Thanks,” he said and placed it in the back pocket of his trousers. Seconds later he was out the door.

  Hattie turned to Muriel who rolled her eyes. Hattie stayed quiet. None of this was her business.

  For the next half hour, both women were shown how to put on makeup. Before leaving, they each had little carry out bags with samples.

  Once outside, Muriel said, “The minute I’m home, I’m gonna wash off all this crapola. I look like a drag queen.”

  “Drag queen?”

  “A red-haired Liza Minelli wannabe. I like Carlos though. A truffle himself. And what was up with Wolfgang Spencer? Did you see how Roxanne and he looked at each other?”

  Hattie didn’t want to judge.

  “And what was she doing with his wallet?”

  “Is that what it was?”

  “I assume so. He put it in his pants pocket. Do you think they’re having an affair? Are you going to tell Julia?”

  Hattie didn’t respond.

  Muriel’s grasp tightened around Hattie’s arm. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

  Hattie shrugged. “A little disappointed.”

  “But you look great. Roxanne really knows what she’s doing. No kidding. Very subtle with the makeup. And your hair. My God. It’s awesome.”

  Hattie kept walking.

  “If you really hate it, it’ll grow out.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “So, what’s wrong?”

  “We’re back where we started.”

  “Nonsense. It went well.”

  Hattie shrugged.

  “We had to defend Jason. I’m glad we set those women straight.”

  “We’re not getting anywhere. And you heard Scott. Proving a murder isn’t easy.”

  “Bull. Those who can’t, don’t. Those who do, do. What’s our next step?”

  Hattie stopped. “I almost forgot. There is something else. Let’s go home another way. I want to walk around the plaza where the access road passes my yard.”

  “Great idea!”

  After the walkway ended, they turned at the side of the building and into the access road. Arm in arm, they headed down the alley.

  “What are we looking for?”

  “Jason’s baseball cap.”

  Metal doors with numbers ran along the rear of the building. Hattie suspected the double door was for Winnie’s. The one next to it had to be the salon. Across the road, there were various kinds of fencing.

  Continuing onward, Hattie stopped at a tall stockade fence. This had to be the Spencers’ property. After the run of the wooden fence, Hattie saw the towering old willow tree. The newer chain link Ralph had installed was tucked in the overgrowth. No wonder Wolfgang slipped into her yard instead of his own.

  Hattie stopped, unhooked herself from Muriel’s arm and stepped into the area where her fence had caved in. Stooping below branches, she entered a dense thicket. The area on both sides of the fence was more private that she would have imagined. She looked along the ground. A vague path led toward her yard.

  “Very private back here.”

  Hattie nodded, trying to figure out where Jason’s body had been found. Perhaps twenty feet beyond the fence. Odd.

  “Hattie, what are you thinking?”

  “Oh Muriel. This doesn’t make sense.”

  “What?”

  “How come Jason was so far into my yard? Wouldn’t a murderer want the body hidden in this area?”

  “Yeah. Weird.”

  Hattie gazed along the underbrush. “I don’t see any hat. Let’s go.”

  Back into the clearing, they trundled toward Lavender.

  “Hattie, try not to get discouraged.”

  Hattie wanted to keep her spirits up but wasn’t sure how. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “That makes two of us. No matter what it takes, we got to keep going, leave no stone unturned.”

  “I suppose,” Hattie said.

  The women came to where the road emptied onto Lavender. Tucked into a corner was a dumpster with a sign NO PARKING.

  Hattie pulled up short. In the spirit of leaving no stone unturned, she pointed to the hulking metal container, “Can we check inside that?”

  “For sure. I’ve always wanted to dumpster dive. Let’s go Sherlock.”

  They walked to the large bin. Muriel handed over her purse and goody bag to Hattie. “Now how do these things work? Oh. I see.” Muriel raised the lid and poked her head inside.

  “Mother-effer!”

  “What Muriel?”

  “OMG, Hattie.” Muriel shut the lid and leaned against the metal side. Her breath became shallow.

  “Muriel, are you alright?”

  “Yes. It’s just that…”

  “What?! Did you see rats?”

  Muriel looked solemnly into Hattie’s eyes. The words came out in a whisper. “We hit the motherlode. Look for yourself.”

  Hattie went on tippy toes, craned her neck, and peered into the dark cavity of the dumpster. Her eyes grew wide. Sitting on top of the trash, spreading out from a large white pouch were a slew of newspapers. Her heart raced.

  Muriel’s breath was labored. “What should we do?”

  Hattie stepped away. “Leave them.”

  “Leave them? But why?”

  “Fingerprints.” Hattie blurted. “I’ve got to call the police.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Two hours later Hattie was still waiting for a call back from Ted Blansky. She had done a couple loads of wash, swept the kitchen, and had cookies baking. She suspected the newfound energy was due to her racing heart. The only way to take her mind off it was to keep moving.

  The phone rang.

  Hattie hurried to pick up. “Hello?”

  “It’s me again,” Muriel said. “Did he call?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “What an a-hole.”

  “I wonder if he’s off today?”

  “Hattie, that guy’s always off. Listen, I’m just putting together a lasagna. Should be ready in an hour. Wanna come over?”

  “Muriel, I have to wait for his call.”

  “No problem. Let’s play it by ear. If you don’t hear from him by the time it’s ready, I’ll bring it over and we’ll eat at your place.”

  “Okay. I’ll let you know. I need to hang up now, just in case he’s calling.”

  “Gotcha.”

  After disconnecting, Hattie scanned the notes she had made and placed by the phone. Given past experience, she knew Ted was probably going to be in a hurry and she needed to get in as much as possible. Finding the rest of the newspapers was a major discovery. She’d start out with this, then move on to other points.

  While reviewing the list, the doorbell rang.

  “Hello, Mrs. Moon.”

  Hattie felt a huge relief. “How wonderful to see you! Come in. I didn’t expect you to stop by.”

  The detective stepped inside. “Well, here I am.”

  “Let me take your coat.”

  “Mrs. Moon, I won’t be staying long.”

  Hattie nodded. “Yes, of course. You must be very busy. Please have a seat.”

  The detective stalled, then walked into the living room and sat on the edge of the couch.

  “I have some cookies in the oven. They’ll be ready any minute.”

  “Mrs. Moon, cookies are the last thing on my mind.”

  “Yes. I understand. I’ve been feeling the same—”

  Ted raised his hand for her to stop talking. “Listen, it’s important we have a frank discussion. I’ve had five calls this afternoon asking me about Jason and how he died. Would you know anything ab
out this?”

  Hattie forced a smile. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to. Can you be specific?”

  “Someone is spreading rumors Jason was murdered. Is that specific enough?”

  Hattie felt a ball growing in her stomach. “I—”

  “What the hell makes you think you can go around trashing the police, suggesting we’re not doing our job, getting people all riled up?”

  “I’m sorry but—”

  “I don’t want to hear buts.”

  Hattie was being scolded. How was this possible? She was thirty years older.

  “Nothing to say?” He shook his head. “Figures.”

  Hattie felt her face getting red.

  “What you did in that hair place could be considered slander. Against me. Against the police department. You really want to go there?”

  Hattie measured her words. “Ted, we were having a discussion. People have opinions. You can’t very well stop them from talking.”

  “Really? How would you like it if I told people you were senile?”

  Astonished, Hattie said, “Excuse me?”

  “I take my job seriously. You’re emotionally involved. I get that. But it’s never a good mix with an investigation. We can only deal with facts, evidence. Until we know more, keep your thoughts to yourself. Do you understand?”

  Hattie had to talk fast. “I found the papers.”

  “Papers?”

  “Jason’s pouch with the Sunday newspapers.”

  “Really? And where was that?”

  “Nowhere close to the yard. In the plaza dumpster.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “You see they were on the other side of the fence and quite a distance. Tossed away like garbage. He wouldn’t do that. He was making deliveries.”

  “Mrs. Moon, there could be plenty of explanations given the circumstances. He probably—”

  Hattie rushed in. She needed to get to the point. “I know you’re busy. But since we found the papers, I was thinking we could look for fingerprints.”

  “We? Fingerprints? And whose specifically?”

  “You know.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “The murderer’s.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You mean the guy who killed Jason, who took the papers, who carried them from the crime scene to…well, here it gets a little sketchy. Mrs. Moon, how do you explain the body dumped in one place and the papers in another?”

  “Ted, if he died suddenly by drugs why wouldn’t he and the papers be in the same place?”

  “We’ve gone over this. He could have dropped those papers anywhere where they were picked up by a bystander and tossed in the garbage. He could have thrown them out himself. The kid was high as a kite.”

  “Yes, you keep saying that.”

  “Okay, Mrs. Moon. If Jason and his papers were both dumped in the garbage, that would be suspect. However, this is clearly, not the case.”

  “But there’s more. He stopped delivering papers on this block. In fact, my house was the last place he went to.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I went over to Lavender, around the corner and asked a gentleman, Mr. Emerson, if he had received the Sunday paper. He didn’t. Now if Jason went into my backyard and died there, how did the papers get—”

  Ted interrupted. “So, you’re going around the neighborhood conducting your own investigation?”

  “No. I just—”

  “Why do you feel compelled to question our judgment?”

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “Help? You must stop helping or I’ll speak with Howie.”

  “Speak to Howie? Why would you talk to him?”

  “He told me he’d like to put you in a Home. Where you’d have nothing to worry about.”

  “Ted, it’s not a Home. It’s an apartment.”

  “Mrs. Moon, you may be safer there.”

  Suddenly, Hattie felt on the defensive. “Safer or out of your hair? Are you threatening me?”

  A smug grin spread across his face. “Just saying Howie should know how you’re doing.”

  “Ted, if you feel it necessary to speak with Howie, I will feel obliged to speak with him about your professionalism.”

  The detective coughed out a laugh. “Excuse me?”

  Hattie felt flushed. Her insides were boiling over. She leaned toward him and chose her words carefully. “Ted, how many young women have you taken advantage of in your career?”

  His grimace dried up.

  Mimicking his condescending tone, she added, “Or are those rumors?”

  His eyes narrowed. His face turned to stone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course, you don’t. Shall we agree neither of us will speak with Howie?”

  Wordless, he stood abruptly and walked out, slamming the front door.

  Hattie fell back into the chair. Her body trembled. However uncomfortable she felt, it was worth it. She had put Ted in his place. Someone had to. And so what if he wasn’t going to help. She’d continue forward.

  Standing, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She peered closer and ruffed her hair, making it stick out more. Standing back, she smiled at the pink porcupine.

  With the phone to her ear, Muriel answered the door. She waved Hattie in.

  “I don’t understand.” Muriel said into the receiver. “How the fudgenuts could someone get that kind of advance on my credit card?”

  Hattie walked in and took off her coat.

  “But I don’t have an online account…What do you mean that’s a problem? Give me your supervisor.” Muriel put the phone to her shoulder. “Have a seat, Hattie. You’re not gonna believe this.”

  Hattie nodded and went into the living room. As usual, the shopping network was on.

  Muriel followed and dropped onto the sofa. She continued speaking to Hattie. “I went to purchase a fabulous ruby necklace. The payment didn’t go through so I called the number on my card and guess what? I’m overdrawn.”

  “I’m sure there must be some explanation.”

  Muriel spoke into the receiver. “Yes. This is Muriel Manning. I didn’t take any money out of this account…Stolen? Of course, it’s been stolen…When was that?” Muriel thought for a moment, then spoke to the supervisor. “But I was in the hospital that day. ...No, I don’t have an online banking account…Yes, you keep saying the money was a cash advance from an online account. I’m not deaf. But I don’t have an online account! I don’t even have a computer!” Muriel put her hand over the receiver and spoke to Hattie, “These guys are fuzz-brained.”

  Muriel continued talking into the phone. “Listen, this really isn’t complicated. Money was stolen from my account and sent somewhere. You must have records to where, when, and to whom. Rather than argue with me, shouldn’t you be following the money?” Muriel screwed up her face as Hattie heard a distant female voice.

  Muriel continued. “Are you asking me if you should issue a different card? Good God woman. Of course. And I want this one cancelled…Yes. Yes. I understand.” Muriel reached for a pen. “Okay, shoot.” After writing down information, Muriel hung up. “My credit card account has been, according to them, compromised to the beat of five thousand smackers.”

  “Oh, Muriel. That’s a lot of money. How could that have happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So, what now?”

  Muriel waved her arm. “They’ll be calling me back. They told me not to worry.” Muriel looked forlornly at the television. “Bummer. No ruby necklace today.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No big deal. How about dinner?”

  Hattie smiled at her friend’s resilience. “I’m starving.”

  Ten minutes later, Muriel placed down Hattie’s dinner plate. “It’s kinda like soup. Where did I go wrong?”

  The spread-out lasagna swam in sauce. “Looks like there may have been too much liquid in the filling.”

  Muriel sat an
d poked at her dish. “I did make a few adjustments and used canned sloppy joe and stewed tomatoes for the sauce. You know, to spice it up.”

  “Very creative.” Hattie loaded the spoon and slurped it into her mouth. “Mmm. This is good.”

  “Really?”

  “I think you’ve invented a new taste treat,” Hattie said. “Lasagna stew.”

  “Goody. I’m going in.” Muriel took a bite, chewed and smacked her lips. “Kind of a cross between Italian and Mexican. Yum balls, if I do say so myself. Hey, when I take it over to Ralph’s, I’ll put into a bowl and call it lasagna chili.”

  Hattie smiled. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

  After a few more bites, Muriel asked, “So when will the police check the newspapers?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “He must have been impressed we found them.”

  Hattie put the spoon down. “Didn’t seem to be.”

  “Huh? What did he say?”

  Hattie didn’t know where to begin.

  “OMG, did that bobblehead hang up on you?”

  “Hang up? Not exactly.”

  “Then what?”

  Hattie took a deep breath and dove in. “He stopped by.”

  “To your house? Wow. Quite a coup. About time he takes us seriously! Good job, Sherlock.”

  “Muriel, it’s a little premature to celebrate. The meeting…it didn’t go well.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Long story short, he wants us to mind our own business.”

  “Meathead. We’re trying to help him.”

  “He doesn’t see it that way. But there was something. He said if the papers and the body were dumped in the garbage, it would be a different story.”

  Muriel bit the inside of her cheek. “Duh. For sure that would be suspicious. Who would take drugs inside a dumpster? That guy’s a lightweight.”

  “Anyway, it was the word he used that made me think.”

  “Word?”

  “Maybe Jason didn’t go into my yard at all.”

  Muriel blinked hard. “Sweetie, how is that possible? You saw him there yourself.”

  “I saw something.”

  Muriel looked worried.

  Hattie knew she wasn’t making sense. “Muriel, I’ve been wondering why he went back there. It wasn’t the next stop on his route. After this block, he’d go down Lavender. As far as taking a shortcut, his home is in the opposite direction. And why would he throw away the Sunday papers in a dumpster when he was delivering them?”