by J. C. Eaton
Therefore, I was forced to drive to the nearest UPS store to fax the thing. Luckily the place was close by in a small shopping center right in the middle of Sun City West. I left Nate a brief voicemail explaining I was sending him a toxicology report and that he needed to call me in the evening.
It took me all of five minutes to have the sheet of paper faxed to Nate, care of the Mankato Police Department. I folded the original back into my bag and started toward the door when a man who’d been using the copy machine spoke.
“So, are you enjoying your stay at Sun City West? The heat’s starting to dissipate finally. We’re back to the high nineties and low hundreds.”
I gave him a funny look, as if to say, “How did you know I was visiting?”
“You don’t recognize me, do you? I’m one of the monitors from the rec center pool. I was there the day you asked about the bees.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m terrible with names and not so great with faces either, apparently.”
“Well, you’re seeing me out of context. If I were back at the pool, you’d remember.”
“The only thing I remember was worrying about getting stung.”
“That incident was such a fluke. Poor woman. There’s been nothing like that ever since. No bee activity at all. In fact, the spot she used to occupy has now been commandeered by the group of women who used to sit closer to the entrance.”
“The, uh . . . sunbathers?”
“Yeah, that cluster of five or six of them, depending on the day. Well, now they can just spread out at the other end and watch the comings and goings at the pool. They’ve got the perfect ringside seats,” the monitor added.
I thought back to the bush and the small hole. There was no sugar in there, just the piece of cardboard. It was highly doubtful that whoever poured the stuff came back to scoop it up or they would have taken the evidence with them. No, more than likely, every bee in the vicinity helped himself to that poolside treat. And that was how Thelmalee got stung.
“Do you know the women from that group? They seemed friendly when I was there.”
“No, not really. I did recognize the one as Josie Nolan from the realty company since her picture is plastered all over the community, but as far as the others go, no. We get so many people through the gates and, even though I check their rec cards, I don’t memorize their names. I’d be on information overload. Well, anyway, I hope you have a great visit. Maybe I’ll catch you at the pool one of these days.”
“Maybe. It was nice talking to you.”
The man went back to his project at the copy machine and I had one more stop to make before heading back—Edna Mae Langford’s street. She lived in the “combo zone,” as my mother liked to call it. Since the developers couldn’t make up their minds about the landscaping, the houses on her block wound up with gravel lawns, Palo Verde and mesquite trees, chunky bismuth palms, and more boulders than the backdrop for a John Wayne movie. I should know. My cousin Kirk and I watched a zillion of those westerns as kids.
I really didn’t expect anyone to be on the street at this part of the day. It was too hot to be walking a dog, too miserable for yard work, and too “iffy” for catching anyone at their mailbox. Still, I wanted to revisit the so-called scene of the crime again.
Just as I expected. No one in sight. Only the UPS truck stopping to make a delivery across the street from Edna Mae’s. The driver was already pulling away from the curb by the time I got there. I was about to keep on going when the door to the house opened and an elderly woman stepped outside to check the delivery. It was a large box.
I immediately sprang into action. You’ve got nothing on me, Miss Marple.
I rolled my window down and shouted, “Do you need some help with that?” Before she could answer, I was out of the car and across the street, taking the woman completely by surprise.
“Why, thank you,” the lady said. “It’s wonderful to have such good neighbors. Especially when you’re getting on in years. Things aren’t as easy anymore. You know, I thought about moving to one of those senior living complexes where they serve you all the meals and do your housework, but I’m not ready for that yet. Maybe in a year or two, when I turn ninety. Then it will be a choice between The Lillian and The Monte Carlo. Or maybe I’ll take one of those cruises around the world. Those ships have excellent health care, you know.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled as I started to hoist the box. It was large and cumbersome, but not too heavy. My bag kept interfering with my maneuverability, but I still managed to get inside and put the box on her kitchen counter.
“Thank you so much. It’s a new queen-size waterproof mattress cover. They got the order wrong the last time and had to resend it. Of course, the last time the delivery came, there was no one to help me. I had to kick and drag the box inside. And when I was finally done and about to shut the door, do you know what I saw?”
I shook my head.
“I looked up and saw poor Edna Mae Langford lying facedown in her driveway. Thought she’d had a heart attack. I called nine-one-one right away.”
“Ohhh . . . so you were the first person to see what happened?”
“Not what happened. Just Edna Mae facedown. I was so preoccupied getting that box inside that I didn’t see what was going on across the street.”
The woman paused to take a good look at me. “How do you know Edna Mae?”
The words stumbled out of my mouth. “I, er, um . . . Edna Mae Langford was in the Booked 4 Murder book club.”
“Oh yes. Yes, indeed. She loved those meetings. Loved talking about mysteries. Poor woman. Imagine falling in her driveway and then dying from pneumonia in the hospital. She once told me her family wanted her to wear one of those medical alert necklaces, but she said they were for old people. Didn’t want any help around the house either, and didn’t want to move into assisted living. Let me tell you, that place was a hairsbreadth away from disaster. I went in there about a month ago because her mail was delivered to me accidently, and do you know what I saw? It made my hair stand on end. Edna Mae had all of her newspapers and letters piled up on the burners. Good thing there wasn’t a frying pan in sight. Surprising that something in her house didn’t kill her. I mean, the way she lived and all. Poor Edna Mae. I feel so badly that such a nice woman died from falling in her driveway. How does such a thing happen?”
“I really don’t know,” I said. “It was fortunate that you were able to call nine-one-one so she didn’t have to lie there too long in pain.”
“You know, if it wasn’t for that UPS delivery, she might have been there for hours. People stay inside during this heat. That’s why I was so surprised to see a woman pacing in front of Edna’s driveway a few days after that accident. It just so happened I was dusting my blinds and looked out the window. Saw that shiny white car and thought it must be a realtor. They snap up these houses like crocodiles and they’re the only ones who can afford new cars.”
Unless it was the person responsible for the accident. They always return to the scene of the crime. And my hunch all along might be right if that shiny new car turns out to be a KIA.
“Uh, yeah. I imagine you’re right. Well, I’d better get on my way.” I turned to face the door. Then I had what best could be described as an epiphany. A real epiphany!
“Can you tell me, I mean . . . do you know . . . does the UPS truck arrive in this neighborhood around the same time every day?”
“You must not get many deliveries. It comes like clockwork. Usually to the Dennersons or the McCaf-fertys. They get their prescriptions from Canada. Too much paperwork if you ask me. And they get their dental work done in Mexico. Right over the border by Yuma. Too much driving for me. Those are two things I can do without. Paperwork and driving. Oh, and waiting for deliveries. That would make three. Three things I can do without. Don’t you think so?”
In that split second, she had unwittingly provided me with a key piece of information that would help me put this book curse to rest.
&nb
sp; “Yes, I suppose. Anyway, I should be going. Hope your new mattress cover works out for you.”
“Oh, it will. It will. By the way, I’m Beverly Mortenson. You can call me Bev.”
“Nice to meet you, Bev. I’m Phee, and it was nice chatting with you. Have a great afternoon.”
“Oh, I will. You know, you can stop by anytime to visit. Anytime at all.”
I wanted to tell her not to wait until she was ninety to move into The Lillian or to board a cruise ship, but I didn’t want to be intrusive. Instead, I reiterated what a pleasure it was to meet her and headed out the door.
As I walked to my car I thought about Sherry Fairchild and the encounter she was having with the Kirksons. I pictured her running for her life, the lovely peach tunic torn to shreds and Maisy-Jayne screaming in the background. Maybe even some broken lamps or pottery to complete the scene. If ever a company had a reason to tear up a contract, Sherry and Jenny’s Fare Estate Sales didn’t have to look any further than Thelmalee’s front living room.
Chapter 18
It was five and still no call from Nate. My mother and I were sitting in her living room finishing up a frozen pizza. It must have dawned on her I needed to eat because she’d stocked up the freezer with enough frozen dinners to keep Stouffer’s in business for the next decade.
“I’m telling you, Mom, whoever scattered that granite gravel around Edna Mae’s driveway made sure it was after the mail delivery and around the time of the UPS truck delivery so Edna Mae wouldn’t lie injured in her driveway for very long. They wanted her to be found quickly.”
“Well, isn’t that thoughtful of them.” She took another bite of her pizza.
“Actually, it was. I think whoever did this to Edna Mae didn’t expect her to die. And I think it was one of those women sitting behind us at the Stardust Theater Thursday night. Remember? I told you one of them said something like ‘we were only trying to help,’ and the other one was scared they might have been seen. Seen doing what? They were talking about someone who broke a hip. It had to be Edna Mae.”
My mother stopped chewing and motioned for me to continue.
“Do you think it could’ve been Jeanette and her friend? The one with the beige SUV? They were at the theater that night. They might have been the ones sitting behind us. No offense, Mom, but the voices I heard sounded a whole lot younger than that geriatric sea-of-gray crowd in there. Besides, Jeanette’s fairly young in comparison with the rest of the population here.”
“Sea of gray? Now you know why I color my hair. Look, your hunch may be right. Who knows?”
“I talked to her this morning after the fire department removed the snake from her house.”
“You didn’t tell me you talked to Jeanette this morning. You just said something about a snake. What did she say?”
“I outright asked her if she was sitting behind us at the theater and she said no. That she and a friend had arrived late and had to sit down in front.”
“Do you think someone planted that snake at Jeanette’s house?”
“I really don’t know what kind of person would go that far. Even a jealous wife. Who might in this case turn out to be an imaginary jealous wife since we don’t even know if Jeanette has a boyfriend. For all we know, the blue Mazda could belong to her accountant.”
“I still think it’s quite possible someone put the snake in her house.”
“Well, I don’t. I happen to agree with the fire department. This is the desert and the native habitat for snakes. You know what I think? I think you’d rather believe someone snuck into Jeanette’s house and put a snake there because you don’t want to think about the possibility a snake could get into your own home.”
“That’s ridiculous. Pass the pizza. And remind me to get batteries for the flashlight. From now on, no one walks around here in the dark without a flashlight. And I think I’ll put some night-lights on the floor outlets. For Streetman.”
I chuckled to myself as I took another slice.
“I can’t eat another piece,” my mother said. “Do you want any more, or should I put the rest in the fridge?”
“Definitely in the fridge. I’m stuffed.”
No sooner did I wipe the last bit of sauce from my lips when my phone began to ring. Nate! Finally! It had to be him calling me about the toxicology report.
“My phone’s ringing. I’ve got to take it.”
I got up, grabbed the phone from my bag, and quickly slid the arrow. “Hello?”
“Hey, I’m impressed, Phee. Toxicology reports and all. You’re becoming a regular crime scene investigator.”
“Very funny. The only thing I’m becoming is more and more frustrated each minute. At least detectives get to solve one case at a time. I’m looking at a jumbled mess of things that may or may not be connected. Anyway, can you please help me out with that report? I don’t understand any of it.”
“What is it you’re trying to determine?”
“Did Minnie Bendelson die from an allergic reaction to fish?”
“Nope, not at all. No sign of histamine in her blood.”
“Then I suppose she really did die from her heart condition or natural causes.”
“Yep, afraid so, Phee. The report listed her age as eighty-seven. Not a spring chicken.”
“You know what this means, don’t you? Everyone will say it’s because of the book curse. Nate, I was certain her nephew tainted her chicken salad with fish so she’d have an allergic reaction and die. The guy had the means and the opportunity. Aren’t those the things the police are always trying to determine?”
“Yeah, that and motive. What about motive?”
“He was her only surviving relative. He’d get everything. Her house, her money . . .”
“Her bills . . . Sorry to disappoint you, kiddo, but I think this lady just died. Plain and simple. So, what else have you found out from snooping around?”
I walked past the kitchen into the guest bedroom, sat on my bed, and told Nate everything that had happened so far. Including the sugar cane evidence I found and the most recent snake incident.
“Hey, for someone who’s supposedly getting nowhere, you’re doing a phenomenal job. Look what you’ve already discovered—someone wanted to harm or scare Thelmalee, and someone else wanted to do the same with the gravel lady in the driveway.”
“Edna Mae,” I said.
“Yeah, Edna Mae. You’ve already ruled out the golf cart accident as legit, and now you can cross off this one. No poisoning. What about the lady with the snake in her house?”
I told him all the details from Jeanette’s snake incident as well as what happened the night I arrived when the fire department responded to a carbon monoxide call.
“My mother thinks Jeanette has a married boyfriend whose jealous wife is behind these incidents.”
“Were you able to verify any of that?”
“Not in the least. The boyfriend is about as real as Santa Claus, but my mother is still sticking to her theory.”
“Whoa. Who said Santa Claus wasn’t real?” He chuckled. “Listen, Phee, like I said before, I think you’re doing a bang-up job with this. You’ve got a combination of hype and rumor going on, but you’ve also uncovered some real solid evidence that points to foul play. Now you just have to connect the dots.”
“What if they don’t connect?”
“Too many coincidences. There’s got to be a link. Oh, and I almost forgot. I was going to call you myself with this little tidbit of information that came to my attention.”
“What? Moira Donahoe is enjoying her old job so much she wants it back?”
“No, nothing like that. Although she’s doing a pretty decent job of it and says to tell you hi.”
“Well, what then? What’s the tidbit?”
“Rolo called to let me know that the book spiked.”
“Spiked? What’s that mean?”
“It means sales went up dramatically. At least in Arizona. Suddenly The Twelfth Arrondissement is getting no
ticed.”
“Oh my gosh. I bet it has something to do with that TV segment from Friday night. I didn’t mention that, did I?”
“No, what segment?”
Nate listened intently as I told him all about Gretchen Morin and the news anchor, Nina Alvarez, who practically told the whole world that if they wanted to get even with someone, all they’d need to do was buy this so-called cursed book and send it as a gift.
“Oh brother. Talk about marketing tactics. Anyway, Phee, I’ve got to get going. Give me a call if anything more comes up.”
“Same with you. And thanks, Nate. I need all the support I can get.”
“You’re doing fine. But I agree with your mother. Take a flashlight if you’re walking around at night.”
He clicked off the phone and I automatically looked at the floor. All clear. It was safe to go back into the other room.
“I hope you don’t mind, Phee,” my mother said as I walked into the living room, “but I told Lucinda and Cecilia we’d go to Bingo tomorrow afternoon at their church. They’re both working the concession.”
“BINGO? We’re going to a Bingo game?”
“Not just a Bingo game, it’s a HUGE one. Half of the community will be there. I guarantee it. We need to get there early to get a good seat.”
“A good seat? It’s not like the movies.”
“Worse. Everyone wants to be near the concession stand, and so do I. I don’t want to walk a mile and a half to get a snack. Besides, you’ll pick up lots of gossip by being that close to the refreshments. Trust me. And some of it might pay off. Probably better than our Bingo cards.”
My mother paused for a second. “Oh, and whatever you do, don’t take the table directly in front of the concessions. Take the one to the left or the right. In case I get stuck talking to someone on our way in, you need to hustle over to a table. Just not the one right in front.”
“Why? Does that one have a curse on it?” I tried to not laugh.
“Very funny, but, in a sense, yes. Yes, it does. The curse of Roberta Young, Paula Darren, and that miserable Miranda Lee something-or-other. They think they own that table and refuse to let anyone sit there. I swear, the three of them all but mark their scent on the table.”