Tippy Toe Murder

by Leslie Meier

  “God forgive me, Lucy, but I almost hope she doesn’t come back. Eddie’s grown so attached to that dog it would break his heart to give it up.”

  “You could get another dog for him. A puppy.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Listen, Lucy. I wouldn’t worry about Caro too much. These old ladies do odd things, they get notions in their heads. We had one old bat call the station the other day saying spacemen were living in her attic and they were driving her crazy with their Morse code. It turned out her smoke alarm was beeping ‘cause the battery was running down.”

  “From everything I’ve heard about Caro, she was pretty sharp.”

  “Well, that’s where someone like you could be helpful. Why don’t you ask around and tell me what you hear? I’m not supposed to, but whenever I get a free minute I pull out the case. I only wish I had time to do more. Which reminds me, I guess I better get back to work. You haven’t had any trouble with the Johnsons’ dog, have you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good. Thanks for the lunch.” He stood and put on his hat, then turned to Sara. “I’m glad to see you cleaned your plate. Now I won’t have to arrest you.”

  Sara’s eyes grew very big, but when Barney winked she decided he might be teasing and gave a cautious little laugh that stopped abruptly the minute he left.

  “Time for your nap,” said Lucy, lifting the little girl down from her booster chair. “I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in.”

  Five thousand dollars was a lot of money, thought Lucy as she cleared the lunch table. What was it for? Maybe Caro did go on a trip after all. But Lucy still didn’t believe Caro would abandon George.

  She remembered the last time she’d seen them on the logging trail. Caro had thrown a stick for the dog, and he’d happily retrieved it, tail wagging. When he brought it to her, she fell to her knees and gave him a big hug. Lucy had been moved by the gesture.

  What did she need five thousand dollars for? Lucy yawned and followed Sara upstairs. If only she weren’t so tired all the time, maybe she could figure it out. These days, no matter how much sleep she got, it never seemed to be enough.

  The roar of the school bus as it accelerated for the climb up Red Top Road woke Lucy and she stood up, stretched, and braced for battle. She heard the screen door slam, and then heard the familiar sounds of Toby and Elizabeth scuffling as they fought to be first at the cookie jar again today. This was getting ridiculous.

  “You don’t need to fight. There are plenty of cookies. You may each take four, and don’t stuff them in your mouth, Toby. Sit down at the table.”

  Elizabeth and Toby exchanged glances and took their seats, expecting a scolding. Lucy poured them each a glass of milk, and then noticing Sara standing in the doorway, still sleepy from her nap, she poured a third glass. She sat down, took Sara in her lap, and began outlining her strategy for the evening.

  “Tonight is awards night at the school. It’s at six, so we’ll have an early supper at five. Don’t go too far from the house, okay?”

  Elizabeth and Toby nodded.

  “After supper, you’ll change into your good clothes—not before, because you might spill something on them, like ketchup. Okay?” Elizabeth and Toby nodded again.

  “I laid your good clothes out on your beds, and I want you to try them on right after you finish your snack.”

  “Do we have to?” groaned Toby.

  “You have to. You haven’t worn them since Easter, and I’m worried they might not fit.”

  “What’ll we do if they don’t fit?”

  “We’ll improvise. Now off you go.”

  Lucy washed the glasses and set them in the drain board, then she slowly climbed the stairs.

  “Don’t come in—I’m not ready,” warned Toby.

  “I see London, I see France,” chanted Elizabeth.

  “That’s enough,” said Lucy, slipping a dress over Sara’s head and buttoning it up the back. She turned the little girl around, and leaned back to study the dress. “You look very nice. Now let’s see if your Mary Janes still fit.”

  The little patent leather slippers were tight, but Sara could still cram her feet into them. Elizabeth’s, however, were hopeless.

  “Hang on, I think there’s a pair of white sandals in that bag of clothes Pam Stillings gave us.” Lucy pulled a rumpled brown grocery bag out from the back of the girls’ closet and fished around inside it. “Here they are,” she said, triumphantly producing a pair of barely worn white summer sandals.

  “I can’t wear those, they’re disgusting,” protested Elizabeth. “They’re hand-me-downs.”

  “They’re very nice, and it’s just for one night. Try them on.” “Why can’t I wear my sneakers?”

  “Sneakers look terrible with a dress.”

  “I’ll wear pants.”

  “I’d like you to wear a dress. Doesn’t Sara look nice?” “Sara’s only four, and I’m eight. You want me to look like a baby.”

  “You won’t look like a baby in the sandals. Especially if you don’t wear socks. People will think you’re wearing stockings.” “Really?”

  “Sure. All the girls will be jealous.”

  “Amy’s mom lets her wear stockings, and heels. Every day.” “In third grade? I don’t believe it.”

  “Well, she does, and she has pierced ears, too.”

  “Next thing you’ll be telling me she wears black cocktail dresses with sequins,” muttered Lucy, lifting Sara’s dress carefully over her head.

  “Everybody wears black. I’m the only girl in the third grade who’s not allowed to wear black,” protested Elizabeth, reviving an old argument.

  “Black is for grown-ups, and even grown-ups don’t wear it after Memorial Day,” advised Lucy. “Unless they’re tourists from New York.”

  “Mom, you have all these little rules that nobody’s ever heard of except you.”

  “Yeah, Mom. I’m not gonna wear this shirt,” Toby chimed in. “I’ll look like a geek.”

  “You already do,” Elizabeth said cattily.

  “That’s enough,” repeated Lucy, losing her patience. “Now, what’s the matter with that shirt?” she asked, turning to Toby. “It’s got an alligator. Nobody wears those anymore.”

  “No?” Lucy remembered Lydia Volpe, her friend who taught kindergarten, relating how she used to teach the children to salute the flag by telling them to put their hands on their alligators.

  “No. It’s all wrong. Can’t I wear a T-shirt?”

  “No, you can’t. It’s this or your long-sleeved button-down oxford.”

  “I guess I’ll wear this, but everybody will laugh at me.” “You’ll be surprised. Everybody will be dressed just like you. Take these off for now and change, and you can go out and play.”

  Checking her watch, Lucy hurried downstairs to set the table and start supper. She had just switched on the oven when she heard Bill’s truck.

  “Hey, Lucy, I was thinking,” he began as he came through the kitchen door. “We ought to tape the ceremony. Where’s the video camera?”

  “Bill, you’re not serious, are you? We’ve got so much tape of the kids, and besides, it’ll embarrass Toby.”

  “What do you mean? We have hardly any videos of the kids, thanks to you. You’re too cheap to buy blank cassettes, and when you do break down and decide to invest two ninety-nine, you push the wrong button.”

  “That was just once,” Lucy said. “I got confused.”

  “And I never got to see Sara in her starring role as the Easter Bunny,” reproached Bill, wrapping his arms around her.

  “I’m sorry,” said Lucy, slipping out of his embrace and opening the freezer. “You’ll just have to rely on your memory tonight. I loaned the camera to Franny.”

  “What? Why’d you do that?” demanded Bill.

  “It’s complicated. But she promised to give it back before the dress rehearsal tomorrow.”

  “I wish you’d checked with me first,” grumbled Bill. “After all, it was my parents who gave
us that camera. Are those fish sticks?”

  “Yeah. Fish sticks, potato puffs, and coleslaw. Homemade coleslaw.”

  “You know I hate fish sticks.”

  “It won’t kill you to eat them this once,” snapped Lucy. Realizing the conversation was in real danger of becoming a fight, she took a deep breath and explained, “I needed something quick and easy for dinner. The ceremony’s at six. You better take your shower now if you want one.”

  Bill turned to go, but then he stopped in the doorway and turned to face her. “You know, Lucy, you’re really pushing it,” he said. There was just the hint of a threat in his tone, but it made Lucy uncomfortable and she didn’t answer. She avoided his eyes and busied herself opening the packages of fish sticks. A moment later she heard him stomping up the stairs.

  Conversation at dinner limped along as Lucy and Bill avoided speaking to each other by questioning the kids about their day at school. For once Lucy didn’t have much of an appetite, but she noticed that Bill managed to eat an awful lot of fish sticks for someone who claimed to hate them. When the phone rang, she welcomed the reprieve and ran to answer it. “Hi, Lucy, it’s Franny.”

  “Hi, there. What’s up?”

  “Lucy, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Mr. Slack caught me with the video camera, and he confiscated it.”

  “What?”

  “He took it. He said I couldn’t possibly afford it unless I’d been stealing from him and therefore the camera must rightfully be his.”

  “Didn’t you tell him it belongs to me?” exclaimed Lucy, then bit her tongue as Bill looked up.

  “I did, but he didn’t believe me. I’m so sorry. I never thought this would happen. He fired me.”

  “Oh, Franny, I’m so sorry. Don’t worry about the camera. I’ll just drop by the store tomorrow and tell him it’s mine. I hope he believes me, I have to tape the dress rehearsal.”

  “I think that’s the best thing to do. He’ll probably come to his senses by then. I’m awfully sorry.”

  “Never mind.”

  No sooner had Lucy hung up than Bill began questioning her. “What was that all about?” he demanded.

  “Kids, you’d better get changed,” she told them, and waited until they were safely upstairs before explaining.

  “This is too much,” he exploded angrily. “You didn’t even check with me before loaning it to someone we hardly know.”

  “Bill, half of that camera’s mine and I loaned it to one of my friends.”

  “You didn’t loan half of it, you loaned the whole thing, and she’s lost it.” Bill’s voice grew louder and he pounded the table with his fist. “Tomorrow you’d just better get the whole thing back.”

  “I will. Now calm down. This is supposed to be Toby’s big night,” pleaded Lucy. “I have to get dressed.”

  By the time everyone was buckled in place in the car, the kids had realized their parents were fighting. They were unnaturally quiet in the back seat; Lucy and Bill didn’t speak in the front seat.

  Lucy clamped her hands tightly together and wished the butterflies in her stomach would settle down. She couldn’t resist glancing anxiously at Bill from time to time. He was clearly angry, and he expressed it by driving too fast, turning too sharply, and tailgating the car ahead of him. Lucy didn’t say anything, afraid she would only make matters worse.

  8

  No jewelry.

  Driving briskly along Route 1, Caro Hutton felt, well, exhilarated was really the only word for it. After the boring daily routine, the rut she’d fallen into, she was finally having an adventure. It was about time, she thought. How had she settled so easily for a life in which walking the dog was the high point of the day?

  The problem was that once she retired, every day was the same. She rose early in the morning, did some stretching exercises, and walked George. Then she visited with Julia, drove home, and tidied the house. Once those chores were completed, the day stretched emptily before her except for the occasional meeting or luncheon.

  When she was teaching she used to look forward to having unlimited time to visit with friends and pursue her interests, but now that she actually did have the time, she found herself making excuses. She couldn’t call a friend right now, she would reason; everyone was probably busy and would resent an interruption. Projects she had planned now seemed too ambitious. Building a gazebo, for example, seemed such a big job. What if she fell off the ladder? Wouldn’t she feel like a fool then!

  So she would read the newspaper, and then probably she would pick up a book. When she tired of reading, she would turn on the TV. She refused to watch soap operas, but some of the talk shows were really quite interesting. People who communicated with the spirit world, people who had sex-change operations, women who had other people’s babies—this was a strange new world indeed. Caro found she couldn’t resist the tearful confessions and scandalous revelations that filled the afternoon airwaves.

  Perhaps one day she would be on one of those shows, she thought, glancing at her small companion. I was a kidnapper, she would tell the audience. I chose to disappear and start a whole new life, a life I never thought I could have, she would say to Oprah, or Phil, or even Geraldo. Their eyebrows would rise in astonishment as she outlined the plans she had made and the precautions she had taken.

  It was simple, she would tell them. I first got the idea when I read about a woman who went into a shopping mall and never came out. She just disappeared, leaving her husband waiting in the parked car. It’s easy for a woman of a certain age to disappear, she would explain, because no one is really interested in finding her.

  Of course, her young companion was a different case. Someone was very interested in finding her, but if everything went according to plan, he wouldn’t. Glancing at the little girl seated beside her, with her blond bangs and freckled nose, and skinny, knobby knees, Caro felt a stab of emotion so sharp that it was almost physically painful. Even though it had been a very long time since she’d felt a similar sensation, she recognized it as love. Oh my, she thought.

  “Are we almost there?” asked the little girl, stirring restlessly.

  “Almost,” she answered, flipping the turn signal and heading off the highway. “Now, what’s your name?”

  “Lisa,” recited the child obediently.

  “Good. And who am I?”

  “You’re my grandmother.”

  “And why aren’t you with your parents?”

  “My parents are taking a vacation in Europe, so I’m spending the summer with you in Maine.”

  “Perfect. Be sure to say it exactly like that. Any mistakes will mean big trouble.”

  The little girl nodded soberly. Then she shivered. She was dressed only in shorts and a thin shirt.

  Caro pulled the car over to the side of the road and braked. She reached for the stadium blanket she kept in the back seat and arranged it over the little girl.

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “I’m seven.”

  “Somehow you seem older,” she said. “Is that better? It’s not much farther, I promise.”

  She pulled back onto the road and followed the familiar route, surprised that even though she hadn’t been in this part of the state for many years, very little had changed. She felt reassured. The plan was good. She had gone over it time and time again. It would work, it had to work.

  She brushed aside thoughts of George—the dear, stupid, doggy beast. She knew her absence would shatter him, temporarily, until he forgot her. But the neighbors were all kind, and she didn’t doubt for a minute that someone would adopt him. Besides, who was more important—an animal or a person? Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel and she glanced at Lisa. She smiled. The little girl was fast asleep.

  9

  Hair in bun with hair net.

  At ten to nine, Kitty Slack was already tired. She’d been up since five and was beginning to run out of energy, so she sat herself down for a minute on the hall stairs. She perched Morrill’s stra
w hat on her knees and waited.

  As soon as she heard the latch on the downstairs bathroom door click, she jumped to her feet. Morrill emerged, took his hat and set it on his head, gave her a formal peck on the cheek, and marched stiffly out the door. Watching from behind the velvet drapes in the front parlor as he proceeded down the walk, Kitty wondered what life would be like without him. It wasn’t the first time she’d entertained such thoughts.

  From her vantage point at the bay window, she watched Morrill shrink smaller and smaller as he proceeded down the street. Soon she couldn’t see him at all. Then her attention was drawn to a silver Subaru, which was being parked on Main Street, right in front of the old granite mounting block. She saw Lucy Stone get out, and rubbed her own aching back sympathetically when Lucy bent over awkwardly to release a small child from the back seat.

  Lucy stood for a moment on the sidewalk and regarded the house. Then, her decision made, she took the child by the hand and began walking up the drive to the back door. Kitty met her there.

  “Lucy Stone, what a nice surprise!” exclaimed Kitty as she opened the door. “And who’s this?”

  “This is Sara,” said Lucy. “Sara’s four.”

  “Well, do come in and visit,” urged Kitty. “I hope you don’t mind sitting in the kitchen. It’s really the coziest room in the house.”

  From what Lucy had seen through the heavily draped windows as she walked up the drive, she didn’t doubt it. “The kitchen is the heart of the home,” she said, taking a seat on a battered old wicker sofa.

  The sofa was arranged, along with a rocking chair, in a sunny comer of the kitchen. Geraniums lined the windowsill, a basket of knitting sat next to the rocker, and a pile of well-thumbed magazines and travel brochures rested on a lamp table.

  “Are you going on a trip?” asked Lucy.

  “No, just dreaming,” said Kitty as she lifted an aluminum percolator off the stove. “Would you like some coffee? I usually have a cup around now.”

  “No, thanks,” said Lucy, eyeing the inky brew. Sara had cuddled up beside her and was looking about curiously.