Saint Patrick's Day - The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club Part III: A Dark Comedy Cozy Mystery With A Twist

by Duncan Whitehead

  You won that silly competition. You and your competitions, I bet they are driving Elliott mad. You won that thing and then Billy duped you into sleeping with him. You cheated on your husband, remember? Surely you remember that. Oh, by the way, how would Elliott feel if he knew the truth? That you are nothing but a disgusting, cheating whore?

  Kelly shifted uneasily for a second before replying, as if not fazed by the question. “Yes, I loved the place, from what I recall. Very friendly people actually but that was a while ago now. It seems like a hundred years ago. A different lifetime. To be honest, I really don’t remember much about it.”

  An age away my foot! Don’t really remember much about it? It isn’t something you forget. Sleeping with a count that turns about to be your next-door neighbor’s nephew. Surely you remember that? Cheating, lying and scheming…remember doing those things?

  Cindy nodded, “Of course, it was a long time ago. I expect you don’t remember much at all. Wasn’t it the Hotel Bonaparte you stayed in? I remember you talking about a very fancy hotel.”

  “I really don’t remember, but yes, it may have been that hotel. Like I said, so much has happened since then that I hardly remember a thing,” lied Kelly.

  The three women sat silently for a minute, all deep in their own thoughts. Kelly was thinking about what dress she would wear for the parade, how she should have her hair styled, what shoes to wear, and what lipstick to apply for the big day. Her intention was to look fabulous for the photographers, press, and TV cameras. She didn’t give any thought to Cindy’s questions and talk of Paris; not for one minute did she think that Cindy knew anything.

  Heidi’s thoughts were more complex. She was contemplating on how she could somehow garnish an invite from Kelly to visit her home. Maybe she would suggest coffee, but she didn’t want to be too obvious. Her plan was, of course, to somehow get into the Miller’s large white house and have a snoop around, see what she could find.

  Cindy though, was more concerned with keeping up her act. She despised Kelly, and Cindy’s false smile was getting more difficult to maintain. Her gentle touching of Kelly’s hand every now and then, as well as the feigned interest in her social engagements—it was all an act. In reality, she wanted to throttle her. But she had an ace card. And that card would be played when the time was right.

  “So, what is going on in the neighborhood? Any gossip?” asked Heidi, interrupting the thoughts of her two companions.

  “Well, let me think,” said Cindy. “Brenda Carter eventually sold her house, a while back actually. You know it was on the market forever. She couldn’t sell it, and she certainly didn’t want to move back in. They are going to stay in Canada and buy a condo in Fort Lauderdale to use for the winter. She told me over the phone that they are going to become ‘snow birds,’ that’s what they are called apparently, people who come from the north during the winter and spend the season in Florida. She didn’t get as much as she wanted for the house, you know, because of the suicide. But the new owner is Sam Taylor, the old police chief, and his wife of course, Sabrina. They moved in a few months ago. Isn’t it great? Having the former chief of police in the neighborhood? It can only be a good thing.”

  Kelly and Heidi both nodded their agreement. “Absolutely,” said Kelly.

  “Fantastic news,” added Heidi.

  “Also, The Partridge house on Kinzie Avenue has been sold, at last. Now I hear that it went for an absolutely ridiculous price, half its value, but then again, who would really want to live there with what happened to poor Veronica?” asked Cindy.

  Kelly shuddered. It was Veronica Partridge who had destroyed her marriage. Cheating with Tom, until her husband found out and killed them both. The mere mention of the Partridges’ sent shivers running down her spine. That bitch Veronica deserved what she got, as did Tom for that matter. Doug Partridge, wherever he was, had done her a favor.

  “Apparently, there is another young couple who are moving in, not your typical Gordonston types. Black I heard, but I guess now that house prices in the neighborhood have dropped, we are going to have to accept that there will be certain ‘changes’ to the type of residents we have in Gordonston,” said Heidi, as she took a sip of her cocktail.

  “Any news about Carla’s old place, may she rest in peace?” asked Heidi, oblivious, or unconcerned that her previous comment was bordering on racism. Kelly though, was a little shocked, but put it down to her age. Maybe she hadn’t realized what she had said.

  “No, still empty. Her friend Gino, the lovely man who attended her funeral, owns it, she left it him in her will. But I think he will eventually sell it. I have the feeling, though, that he doesn’t want to sell it. Probably wants to keep it as a shrine to Carla maybe? He isn’t living there though. Probably just a sentimental reminder of Carla.”

  “Poor Carla,” said Kelly, “such a beautiful woman. You know, I was shocked when I found out how old she was. I thought she was forty at the most.”

  Cindy and Heidi momentarily felt sadness, as they recalled their departed friend and her untimely and tragic death. They both missed her, Cindy more so than Heidi, but it had been three years since Carla had drank the poison meant for Cindy.

  Oh, thanks a lot for reminding me you, insensitive bitch. Why not add that it was Billy who killed her but that it should have been me? You really are a dumb little tramp. What in the good Lord’s name does Elliott see in you? Apart from your tits, legs, and pretty face? There really is no brain in that head of yours, is there?

  “Well, my, Betty Jenkins is extremely busy,” said Heidi. “She looks after Carla’s place, gives it a dusting every week, and checks that it is good condition. Gino apparently hired her to keep an eye on the place. But I told her that was fine, as long as it doesn’t impose on me. I am your priority, I said. I come first. I always come first.”

  Cindy nodded her head. “Makes sense, her caretaking Carla’s place. There isn’t anyone like Betty Jenkins to keep an eye on things.”

  “She is also doing the same at the other empty place, the house where that nasty old man lived, Ignatius Jackson. She goes in there once a week, cleans, dusts, and checks the place. Apparently he left the house to the church, but they are waiting before they sell it, according to Betty anyway, waiting for the market to improve. You know he had no relatives, alive or dead? He left everything, a pot load of money I heard, to the church,” said Heidi.

  It was true that house values in Gordonston had dropped after the murders of Tom Hudd, Veronica Partridge, Carla Zipp, and the suicide of Stefan Deripaska. It seemed the neighborhood had lost some of its ‘exclusivity,’ and where once it had been regarded as a genteel and quite uneventful neighborhood, it was now seen as a subdivision where ‘those things’ had happened. However, just lately, people seemed to be less interested in events that occurred three years ago, and appeared to be moving on to other local gossip. Slowly, things in Gordonston were improving.

  “I am sure things will pick up. At least the press has stopped their snooping. I think in a few months, things will be well and truly forgotten,” said Heidi.

  Kelly, for a moment, appeared saddened. Tom was nothing more than a memory, yesterday’s news, and his killer was still out there, not that she cared. Not anymore. Not after he had cheated on her. But she still felt a hint of sorrow.

  Cindy also felt a tinge of sadness at Heidi’s comments. Carla was now just a memory, and soon she too would be forgotten. Cindy raised her cocktail to her lips and drank.

  “Let’s not forget the queers,” said Heidi.

  “I am not sure that is the correct way to refer to them,” said Kelly nervously, not wanting to correct Heidi but feeling that she ought to.

  “Homos then, faggots, fairies. Whatever. They moved into the neighborhood just before the Taylors did. I haven’t spoken to them myself. Not sure I would want to. It’s unnatural if you ask me.”

  Once again, Kelly felt uncomfortable. Surely Heidi knew that Elliott’s two stepsons, Spencer and Gordon, were bot
h gay.

  “Well, they seem to keep themselves to themselves,” said Cindy, sensing Kelly’s discomfort. Cindy knew that Kelly probably felt offended by Heidi’s remarks. Later, she would assure Kelly that Heidi didn’t mean it, and that she herself also felt uncomfortable. It was all part of her plan to lull Kelly into a false sense of security and trust, only to pounce when she least expected it.

  “Okay dear ladies,” said Kelly as she rose from the picnic table. I have a lunch date with my husband. I shall see you both tomorrow? Same time?” she asked, before calling Biscuit, Grits, and Shmitty to join her.

  A lunch date with your husband? You spoiled little bitch. It should be me going on a lunch date with Elliott, not you.

  The three dogs bounded over to their mistress, exhausted but satisfied by their morning romp in the park with Fuchsl, Paddy, and Walter.

  “Well, you have a great afternoon, Kelly,” said Heidi, hiding her disappointment that once again, she had missed an opportunity to get inside the Miller home.

  “Yes, enjoy your lunch with Elliott,” said Heidi, again her smile firmly fixed to her face.

  Cindy clenched her fist under the table, unnoticed by either Kelly or Heidi before she spoke. “Yes, have a wonderful afternoon and au revoir, and bon appetite as they say in France.”

  Neither Heidi nor Kelly had any idea why Cindy kept speaking in French. Maybe her self-imposed exile had had some strange effect on her, thought Heidi. Kelly thought that maybe she had been taking lessons, and that maybe she intended to visit Paris. She hoped that, if she did, she didn’t stay at the Bonaparte hotel. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if, by some remote and obscure chance, she ever found out about her and Billy.

  After confirming that she would join her two friends the next day, Kelly left the park, followed by her two poodles and Shmitty. Cindy breathed a sigh of relief, and the false smile quickly disappeared from her face.

  “It must be hard,” said Heidi, “for you, listening to her talk about Elliott. I do understand Cindy, what he did to you was unforgiveable. He should have married you if he had any sense. I always thought that he would.”

  Cindy nodded, “I am over it; it took a while, but what can I do? I can’t compete with Kelly, anyway. She is pleasant enough and I am pleased that we invited her to join us,” she lied.

  It had been two months since Cindy ended her self-imposed exile, after the day she had opened Billy’s box. Once again, she was a stalwart of the community. Cindy greeted everyone with a smile and a pleasant word. She was no longer the ‘Witch of Gordonston.’ She was ‘good old Cindy,’ and of course it had been her idea to resurrect the dog walking club, as well as her idea to invite Kelly into the club, an idea that had been embraced readily by Heidi.

  Heidi knew that Cindy was bluffing, putting on a brave face, and that deep down she not only resented Kelly, but hated her. She wasn’t, though, going to push the subject. She may have been eighty-six, but she had her wits about her. She could smell envy and jealousy, no matter what direction the wind was blowing.

  “Well, I am back now. I am fine Heidi, it is all water under the bridge. I was acting like a jealous old maid. I have no hard feelings towards either Elliott or Kelly,” lied Cindy once again.

  Heidi concurred with her friend, though of course did not believe her. Cindy may be fooling Kelly but she wasn’t fooling Heidi. Both women sat in silence as they each took a swig from their plastic cups.

  Heidi’s gaze, though, was no longer fixed on Cindy. She had spotted movement in the park, and was straining to see who had entered the gate that ran along Gordonston Avenue. The newcomer had unleashed a dog, allowing it to run and join Fuchsl, Walter and Paddy in a game of chase and be chased.

  “What in heaven’s name does she think she is doing?” asked Heidi.

  Cindy turned to face the direction in which her friend stared, “Who?” she asked.

  “That girl, she isn’t a Gordonston resident. She just walked in here and let her dog of its leash. How dare she? I am going to speak to her.”

  Before Cindy could utter a word, Heidi stood up and was heading towards the young woman, her face fixed with a stern look. As she approach the girl, who appeared to be in her mid-twenties, and dressed in jeans, running shoes, a cardigan, and spotting a rather short haircut, the encroacher turned to face her. She smiled as Heidi approached. Her pretty and innocent-looking face oblivious to the fury she had just provoked in the old woman, who was now within talking distance of her.

  “You do know that this park is for Gordonston residents only?” said Heidi harshly.

  “Yes, I do,” replied the girl. “But we are not hurting anybody, and anyway, I only live a few blocks out of Gordonston, in Twickenham. You know there is simply nowhere for us to walk our dogs over there. My dog, Ipswich is his name, enjoys it so much here. Isn’t it wonderful to watch them play together?” Ipswich, a cocker spaniel, along with Fuchsl, Walter, and Paddy were now engaged in another game of chase and be chased and seemed to be having a great time as they played quite happily together.

  Heidi knew where Twickenham was, a small neighborhood that bordered Gordonston to the north. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood, but certainly not as exclusive as Gordonston.

  “Then you know you are breaking the law. I must insist that you and your dog leave the park immediately,” announced Heidi, unmoved by the girl’s politeness and smile.

  “What law?” she replied, her smile slowly leaving her face.

  “The law. The law, there is only one law.”

  “Really?” replied the girl, now taking a defensive stance, her smile now gone, replaced by a look of defiance.

  “Yes, leave immediately, before I call the police.”

  The girl laughed, “The police? You are going to call the police? I think this park and this neighborhood have had enough of the police. I suggest you sit down, Grandma, before you give yourself a heart attack. Or a stroke, or maybe even both.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that? I will have you know I am good friends with the Mayor.”

  “So what?” sneered the girl, “Go and get him, fetch the police. Just because you have signs saying ‘Private Property: Gordonston Residents Only’ doesn’t mean you are right. I pay my taxes and I live in Savannah. Who says this park belongs to you? Get lost, you old witch,” said the girl, as she turned her back on Heidi and headed towards the wood -chipped pathway that encircled the park, calling her dog to heel.

  Heidi shook with anger. She was furious. No one had ever spoken to her that way before. She stood open-mouthed, practically in shock. She watched in disbelief as the girl disappeared around a corner and behind a tree, undeterred by Heidi’s threats. She needed another drink.

  “Well, who is she?” asked Cindy once Heidi had returned to the picnic table and had taken a very large swig of her cocktail.

  “She is trouble, that’s who she is,” said Heidi, reaching into her pocket and retrieving her cell phone.

  “Who are you calling?” asked Cindy.

  “The police of course. She called me a witch, said that it was her park as much as ours. She lives in Twickenham. How dare she? The uppity little tyke, what’s more she resembles an elf, an imp even, with that ridiculous short haircut. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if she is a lesbian--she certainly looks the type.

  Heidi called 911 and informed the dispatcher of what had occurred, that there was a trespasser in the park who was being verbally abusive. The dispatcher informed Heidi that her complaint, though an emergency to Heidi, did not warrant a 911 call, and was not a real emergency. After Heidi had barked at the dispatcher and told her that she felt endangered, that she was a good friend of the mayor’s and the former chief of police, as well as being nearly ninety years of age, the dispatcher relented and informed Heidi that an officer would be there shortly and was already on his way.

  “Look,” said Cindy, “she is leaving.”

  Heidi turned her head to watch as the girl and her dog exited the park from
the same way she had entered. She looked over towards Cindy and Heidi, a wide grin on her face and waved.

  Cindy raised her hand to wave back.

  “What on earth are you doing, Cindy?” asked Heidi.

  “Waving at her?”

  “Why?”

  “Because she waved at us.”

  “She was being facetious and rude, she was being flippant. If I were twenty-years younger, I would slap her face. Typical, the police are late as always. I thought the police in Savannah were meant to be good? I feel a complaint about their tardiness could be in order,” said Heidi, her anger growing as she checked the time on her watch. It had only been two minutes since she had called 911, but to Heidi, that was not acceptable.

  Five minutes later, a police car pulled up to the east entrance of the park and parked opposite Elliott and Kelly’s home. The officer entered the park and made his way towards Heidi and Cindy, but not before he was first greeted by Paddy, Walter, and Fucshl, who sped towards the police officer. The policeman petted the dogs and approached the two old women sitting at the picnic table.

  “What seems to be the problem?” he asked, smiling at both women. “I had a report of a trespasser who was been threatening and abusive, where is he?” He asked, scanning the park.

  “She left,” said Heidi harshly, “and if you had been five minutes earlier, you would have caught her red-handed. She shouldn’t be in here, this is a residents’ only facility.”

  The police officer shook his head. He was tired, and it had been a long morning. He didn’t have time for this.

  “Did she attack you?” asked the officer.

  “Yes,” said Heidi, “she verbally attacked me. Called me a witch,” Heidi took a sip of her drink.

  “But she wasn’t violent?”

  “No, she was rude.”

  “Did she threaten you?”

  “No, but if I see her again, she will regret crossing me.”

  “Did she use abusive language towards you?”

  “She called me a witch.”

  “But she wasn’t violent?”