Perplexity on P1/2 (Parson's Cove Mysteries)

by Rose, Sharon

  It is very creepy listening to a dead person’s voice even when it’s only a recording. There was this moment of silence and then a loud beep.

  “Grace? This is Andy. Give me a call. I’m getting worried.”

  Andy? Andy? Where had I heard that name before? Where had I heard that voice before? By the time my brain went into gear and I grabbed the phone, Andrea was gone. The only thing I’d managed to do was knock over an ashtray and scatter cigarette butts and ashes all over the table. Maybe some went on the floor too. All I had was a dial tone.

  However, I took comfort in the fact that my little trip over to Grace’s house was not in vain. I learned two very important things: Andrea was alive and she didn’t know that Grace was dead.

  Why was she worried?

  I was definitely ready to return to Stella’s house. After all, Cecile still lived here and I wasn’t too keen on meeting up with him in a dark room, especially one that belonged to him.

  I’d been almost fearless going into the house and now I felt almost euphoric. I think this was the most I’d accomplished since taking on this murder case. I stood on the step for a moment to savor my success. The street was quiet. Most of the houses were in darkness. There was the faint hum of traffic in the distance, probably coming from the seawall. Dogs barked and a car door slammed. I strolled down the sidewalk to Stella’s house.

  The pink Cadillac drove up just as I was about to open the door.

  I waited for them at the top of the stairs.

  “Mabel,” Flori called up from the bottom step. “Are you all right? Where have you been?”

  She rushed up the steps at an amazing pace and crushed me to her bosom. Stella was right behind.

  “You can let go now, Flori. I’m fine.” She pulled me into the room. Stella shut the door, then walked over, and turned the music up again. At least, this time it wasn’t quite as loud.

  “Could we put the lights on now?” I asked. “I’m really tired of trying to maneuver in the dark.” My knee was still hurting from its encounter with Cecile’s coffee table. “And what do you mean, where was I? Where the heck were you two? Why didn’t you leave a note or something?”

  “Leave a note?” Flori looked at Stella. “We never even thought of it, did we?” She turned to me. “I’m so sorry, Mabel. I should’ve left a note.”

  “That’s okay, Flori. I might not’ve seen it in the dark anyway. Don’t worry about it. But, right now, could we please turn the lights on?”

  “Do you think we should, Stella? He might be searching for us.”

  “Who’s searching for you?” I looked at Stella. “And why’d you blow your whistle, Stella? I nearly had a heart attack.”

  Stella got a funny look on her face. Flori started crying.

  “Isn’t anybody going to tell me?”

  “It was my fault,” Flori said between sniffles. “I’m sure I saw that Mr. Hatcher walking towards the window. You know, Mabel, the one you were so foolishly going to look through. I saw you start to stand up so I grabbed the whistle out of Stella’s hand and blew.” She started to wail so I walked over to the table, fumbled around until I found a napkin, and handed it to her. She blew.

  “Then what happened?” I said.

  “Things were happening so fast.” She snorted. “Maybe Stella could tell it better.”

  “No, you tell me.”

  She cleared her throat. “Well, both men ran out of the house. While they were looking down the street at the front of the house, we saw you running down the back lane. We figured you’d be okay. When the men didn’t see anything…”

  “But,” Stella interrupted, “they sure did look up here for a long time.”

  “That’s true, they did. We were so frightened. It seemed like they could see right through those storm blinds, didn’t it?”

  “So, where did you go?”

  Stella picked up the story. “Both men jumped into their cars so we thought we might follow at a distance.”

  “This was not my idea,” Flori said.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t but it was better than staying alone in the house, right?”

  “Right, Mabel.” She blew her nose but the tears continued to flow.

  “It was hard to know which man to follow,” Stella said, “but it seemed to me that since you knew that Mr. Hatcher, it was best we follow him. In hindsight, maybe we should’ve gone the other way.”

  “Why?”

  “Cause Mr. Hatcher drove straight to the pen.”

  “The pen? You mean Mr. Hatcher drove to the jail?”

  They both nodded in unison.

  “And we think he got a good look at us when we drove by.”

  “Why would he go to the jail if he was involved in the murder? Isn’t that the last place he’d want to go? And, what about the money? Where is it?”

  “What money?” Stella asked.

  “I think we should sit down.” It felt like my legs were going to give out on me. I reached for a match and lit one of the candles. There looked to be a few swallows of wine in one of the bottles so I tipped it up and drank it down in three gulps.

  Stella said, “Should I get another bottle of wine?”

  Flori and I both nodded. “Yes,” I said. “I think we’ll need it.”

  We settled in with our wine and I lit another candle. Stella spoke first. “Now, what’s this about money?”

  “That’s what the two men were arguing about. Mr. Hatcher and the other fellow. He had an accent. I think he was Mexican. Anyway, he’d come to collect money from Grace but as we know, Grace wasn’t there. He was very upset but I couldn’t hear what Hatcher was saying. Whatever it was, I’m sure he didn’t tell him that Grace was dead.”

  “Does Hatcher know she’s dead?” Flori asked.

  “Good question,” I said. “He might not.”

  “Or,” Stella said, “do you think he’s the killer?”

  “Why would he go to the jail” Flori said, “if he were the killer?”

  “Why would he go to the police anyway?” I asked. “He works for a cereal company.”

  We shook our heads.

  “Oh,” I said. “We do know something more. I went into the house just before you came.”

  Before I could continue, Flori gasped and said, “You what? What house?”

  “I went into the empty house next door. While I was there, the phone rang. The answering machine came on, and guess who it was?”

  “Grace?” Flori whispered, her eyes bulging and her eyebrows up under her bangs.

  “No. Grace is really dead, Flori.” I paused a moment. “It was Andrea.”

  They both looked at me for a moment as if they couldn’t remember who Andrea was.

  “So,” Stella said, “which Andrea are we talkin’ about here?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sleep didn’t come too easily that night again. We drove almost all the way back to the hotel with the lights out. If we saw a car coming behind or meeting us, we pulled over and parked. None of the cars, however, looked like the two we’d seen at Cecile’s house. Flori had a long hot bath to try help her sleep. It worked too because within ten minutes, she was snoring. It took my brain quite some time to stop running in overdrive. Question after question kept piling up in my mind. I had no answers and I knew Flori wouldn’t want to stay much longer. One more day would be about it.

  Before I drifted off, I realized that we’d have to check out the jail. What choice did we have? I had to find out why Hatcher would go there. Would someone rotting on Death Row be the answer to our mystery?

  The next day, we woke up to rain. The gray and depressing kind. Flori doesn’t function well in dreary weather. I tend to enjoy having an excuse to feel and act miserable once in awhile.

  I knew the day wasn’t going to be that great for her when she woke up without her usual smile. She groaned when she got out of bed. Her knees bother her when it’s damp outside. I don’t have the heart to tell her that if she lost a bit of weight, she wouldn’t ha
ve so much pain. We never go there.

  “I don’t think we’ll solve anything today, Mabel. Look at the sky.” She stood up and walked to the window. “Look at the water; it’s so rough this morning.” Her eyes got big.

  “Do you think we could be in for a hurricane?”

  “No, Flori. This isn’t hurricane season. It’s just a little rain. We can still solve a crime in the rain, you know.”

  “I don’t know if I have any energy left to solve anything. We’re way over our heads with this and you know it, Mabel. Besides, it’s up to the police to solve murders, not you. There’s nothing more we can do. I want to go home.”

  “You’re saying that because you don’t like the cloudy gloom. As soon as the rain lets up a bit and we have some breakfast, you’ll feel much better.” I rolled out of bed and stretched. “Besides, there’s one place that we have to go, Flori. It will hold the answer to Grace’s murder.”

  Flori moaned. “I hate it when you talk like that. Nothing holds the answer. We are not going to solve anything. Period.”

  I didn’t say a word.

  She watched the rain and rolling waves for a few minutes and then said, “What do you mean, you have one place to check out? Please, don’t tell me you’re going into Grace’s house again. I won’t allow that.”

  “No, I don’t think we’ll find anything there. Unless, Cecile came home. If he did, Stella would call us immediately, I’m sure. By the way, where is she? I thought she was coming to pick us up for breakfast.”

  “Not until nine,” she said. “It’s only seven-thirty now.”

  “Okay. Well, I’m heading for the shower then.”

  I’d started the water running before Flori stuck her nose up to the door and shouted, “What place did you say we had to check out?”

  “The jail,” I shouted back. “We have to check to see who Mr. Hatcher visited.”

  Flori rarely, if ever, says an indecent word but if I were a betting person, I’d say a very foul remark came out of those innocent lips of hers. Good thing I flushed the toilet at that exact moment.

  I should tell her to start saying shitrophsky too.

  Chapter Twenty

  We were back in the small crowded Mexican restaurant for breakfast. It was after nine and the place was packed. Flori and I were in the minority - everyone else was either black or Hispanic.

  “Hmmm.” Stella was trying to concentrate on her food and pick her own brain at the same time. “I must know somebody who’s in jail.”

  “There has to be some way that we can get in and find out who Mr. Hatcher was visiting,” I said. “Is there a way to check all the inmates’ names?”

  Stella’s eyes brightened. “We have a little newspaper called Police News. I wonder if we could check out some of those at the library.” She filled her mouth with the last piece of her burrito and chewed. “What’re we lookin’ for anyway, Mabel? Do you have a name?”

  “Not yet. I will if I see it though.”

  “Sorta a shot in the dark, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Flori said. “It’s not even that. At least, in the dark you might accidently hit something. Mabel has no clue who to look for at all. Right?” She turned to me with an accusing look in her eye.

  I ignored Flori and turned to Stella. “When was the last time you saw Cecile? Did you see him within the past few days?”

  Stella’s eyes got bigger. “I don’t think so but he could’ve been comin’ and goin’ and I missed him. He’s always been a sneaky kind of person. You think maybe he’s the one Mr. Hatcher was goin’ to see, Mabel?”

  “That would make sense, wouldn’t it? Hatcher was in Cecile’s house and they seem to be partners in crime, don’t they? Of course, if he is in the pen, the cops must’ve arrested him sometime after he left Las Vegas. Could he have come home and been picked up by the cops? And sometime in the middle of that, did he have time to kill Grace?”

  They both nodded but looked doubtful. Flori was getting back into it again.

  She turned to Stella and said, “Why don’t you go to the jail and ask to see Cecile Tucker? Tell them you’re his neighbor and you thought you saw some people breaking into his house while he was being detained. You felt it was the only Christian thing to do, to let Cecile know. Even though you don’t condone his way of life. Make sure you say that. You wouldn’t want them interrogating you.”

  I stared at Flori. “Flori,” I said. “That’s brilliant. That’s the answer. Will you do it, Stella? After all, you won’t even have to lie. You did see two men breaking into his house. Well, maybe not breaking in but how were you to know, right? They went in and you were quite sure neither Cecile nor Grace was home.”

  “And, you, Mabel. You really did break in.” Flori added.

  “She didn’t see me.”

  Stella grinned. “Oh lord,” she said. “What have I gotten myself into with you two ladies?” She and Flori burst into laughter and I had to walk over to the counter to bring back more napkins.

  By the time we drove into the prison parking lot, the rain was over and there was blue sky showing in the west.

  The Yellow Rose Correctional Facility looked about as bleak as the weather had at seven that morning. It was a six-story gray stone building, with black bars covering every window. Even with the bars, I could see that the windows were almost black with dirt. There were cameras on each corner of the roof, and two more pointed straight down at the front doors. I couldn’t tell if they were moving or not so I preferred not to make eye contact.

  Flori and I sat in the car and waited for what seemed to be an eternity.

  “Quit looking at your watch, Mabel. She’ll get here when she gets here.” Flori looked out over the parking lot. She sighed. “If I ever go on a vacation with you again, Mabel, remind me to bring my knitting.”

  I looked out over the lot too. There was a variety of cars - mostly, older models. The cars that had pulled up in front of Grace’s house weren’t there. Where was Mr. Hatcher?

  “You know, Flori, I was wondering. Do you think Mr. Hatcher stayed in a hotel while he was here? If so, I’m sure Stella could find out where. She knows almost everyone. Of course, if we had to, we could even bribe someone, couldn’t we? You know, like a desk clerk?”

  “Pardon me, Miss Wickles? We could not bribe anyone. Get that thought out of your head. And, stop thinking of your next step until we get through with this one.” Worry furrowed Flori’s forehead. “I hope Stella will be okay. Now, I wish I’d never come up with this stupid idea.”

  “Well, it was really my idea, Flori. You just came up with a good reason for going in, that’s all.”

  “That’s what I mean. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.”

  I glanced at my watch again. All of three minutes had passed since the last time. Stella had been behind those prison walls for almost half an hour.

  “I hate sitting here,” Flori said, “and watching all those cops going in and out. Do you notice how every one of them looks over here? I keep thinking that any minute one is going to come over here and arrest us.”

  “They can’t do that. We haven’t committed a crime.”

  “Right, Mabel. You don’t think it’s a crime to break into someone else’s house? What if there’s a warrant out for your arrest? What if someone saw you going into the house last night and the cops are out looking for you? Have you thought about that?” Her eyebrows went up and disappeared under her bangs.

  “Nobody’s out looking for me.” I looked towards the jail again. “Here she comes, Flori. Do you think she looks like she’s found anything out?”

  “I have no idea how that looks.”

  Stella climbed in and let out a long breath of air.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “What did you find out? Did you see Cecile?”

  She reached over and started up the car. “Let’s get out of here,” she said. “I’ll fill you in later.”

  “How much later?”

  “Oh, Mabel, be quiet and let Stella collect
herself. It’s not easy going into a prison all alone. Not that I’ve ever been there but I’m sure it’s awful. It isn’t like going into the little police station in Parson’s Cove, you know.” Flori gave me a warning look before turning back to Stella. “Did they do that strip search thing with you, Stella?”

  Stella laughed. “Are you kiddin’? Honey, nobody wants to strip search me. I could conceal weapons of mass destruction in my rolls of fat but nobody wants to go there.”

  She pulled in front of a doughnut shop.

  “This has made me ravenous,” she said. “Let’s have coffee and a chocolate croissant. I’ll tell y’all about it while we eat.”

  This had made her hungry? It had completely erased any thought of food from my mind. How can people think of eating every hour when there’s a murder to solve?

  We settled into our booth. I had coffee. They were out of croissants so Flori and Stella both ordered something called a Bismarck. I had no idea where the name originated but it must have had something to do with enough deep-fried dough and jam to blow a ship out of the water.

  “How much longer do we have to wait?” I asked. Watching them sitting there, silently filling their mouths was killing me.

  Stella shook her head; her mouth was full. She swallowed.

  “Cecile Tucker isn’t in jail.”

  Deflated doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt.

  She grinned. “I did find something else out though. As an afterthought, I said to the very nice police officer, ‘you don’t know if my other neighbor is in, do you? His last name is Williams.’”

  “And?”

  “He said, ‘You mean, Ben?’ and I said, ‘Is that Andrea’s husband?’ And, guess what he said?”

  “I’m not in the mood for a guessing game, Stella. What did he say?”

  “Mabel, don’t be so rude. Stella will tell us in her own due time.” Flori shook her head and went, “Tsk. Tsk.”