Mango Cake and Murder

by Christy Murphy

  "How did you turn him down?" Mom asked.

  "I told him I wasn't up to dating anyone, but he didn't believe me."

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "He'd heard the same rumors you two did about me dating Harold. I told him the same thing I told you, but he insisted that Harold had planned to marry me. I said it was ridiculous, but now I guess he was right. No wonder he was so mad and stormed out of here saying he was going back to Florida. "

  Mom's eyes widened. "Did he develop and print these pictures himself?"

  "He made a big production out of telling me how he’d set up his old darkroom just to print them for me. I didn't want to say anything, but I was an art major in school and his photos aren't worth all that trouble. He'd be better off with a digital camera and printing them out on an inkjet printer. Save his lungs from all those chemicals. He's using all the leftover equipment his daughter keeps for him in the attic. That stuff has got to be from the seventies."

  "Do you know where he's staying?" Mom asked.

  "He's at Angela Hardy's house. That's his granddaughter's married name. I doubt he'd be leaving town right away though. He's supposed to speak at Harold's funeral. Although, now with the delay because of the autopsy, he might not stay."

  "How do you know about the autopsy?" Mom asked.

  "Margaret called me this morning to say the funeral would be delayed, because the coroner’s office needed to run more tests on the body.”

  “Charles was here when you got the call?" Mom asked.

  “Yes, I told him," Edna said.

  "I hate to rush off, but we've got to go," Mom said.

  Edna stood up and showed us out. "Next time we speak, you'll have to tell me all about working on that show. It sounds so exciting.”

  When Mom didn't take the opening to talk about her big scene when she was pregnant with me, I knew we were in a rush. Mom was worried that Charles would leave town, which meant Mom thought he was our killer.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mom talked to Detective Cooper as I sped to Angela Hardy's house. Of course it had to be located up Marple Drive when we were in a hurry. I tried to remain calm, but between the Southern California sun beating through the windshield and the pressure of trying to catch a murderer who might be on the run, stress sweat flowed in an unflattering manor down my face and back.

  "Meet us there," I heard Mom say as she hung up.

  "What did the detective say?" I asked Mom.

  "He said he'd check it out, and we shouldn't go over there."

  "Maybe he's right. It's not like we can stop Charles from leaving, and if he's the murderer it can't be a good idea to ask him for all the murderous details ."

  "We'll just check if he's there, and if he tries to leave, we'll follow him so DC knows where he is," Mom said.

  "Detective Cooper is coming, right?" I asked.

  "I think he was going to check it out later, but now that I said we're going over there, I think he might hurry."

  "That's not reassuring," I said.

  "You're getting better at diving," Mom said changing the subject.

  "What makes you say that?" I asked as I turned onto Marple Drive. I'm a sucker for a compliment.

  "This is the longest conversation we've had in the van since we got it," Mom said.

  I would have laughed, but my driving hadn't improved to the point where I could laugh and steer up a mountain road at the same time.

  We turned off of Marple onto the unmarked dirt road with Angela Hardy's house and the homes of her two cousins.

  I pulled up onto the shoulder under a tree and parked. "How do we know if he's here?" I asked Mom.

  "I don't know," Mom said. "The driveway is empty, but the cars could be in the garage."

  "Maybe he's already gone," I said.

  "I'll go knock on the door," Mom said.

  I grabbed her by the shoulder. "Oh no you don't, Nancy Drew. You're staying right here. If he's the killer, that's dangerous. And if he's not, it doesn't matter."

  Mom didn't look happy.

  "Mom, we'll stakeout the house and follow him like you said. And if he's gone, then he's gone."

  "But if he's gone, we'll need to tell DC to meet him at the airport," Mom said.

  "How do we know which airport? And what if he just rented a car to drive home or took the bus? I mean he's broke, right?"

  Mom thought about it. "I guess a stakeout is best. But," Mom stopped herself from finishing her thought.

  "Go ahead," I said.

  "I don't think you'll do well in a car chase."

  She had me there.

  "What makes you so sure Charles is the murderer?” I asked changing the subject.

  "There's a form of cyanide that they used to use in developing pictures, for one," Mom said. "And then there's the part where he'd heard about Harold and Edna dating and getting married. He couldn’t have learned that from gossip."

  "Why not?”

  “He's only been in town for four days, and Celia told us it was a secret."

  "Yes, but you know this town and secrets."

  "Exactly! I know this town and all the secrets," Mom said.

  It took me a moment to figure out what she meant. "Of course! You didn't know about Harold wanting to propose, and we're related to Celia. There's no way a man who's been out of town for over fifty years could get the scoop on gossip that big before you!"

  Mom nodded. "And remember Charles saying to DC that he stopped by to see Harold the day before the party and how healthy Harold seemed.”

  "That was the same day they got the ring!" I said.

  “Harold must've been so excited about the ring that he told his old friend about the engagement," Mom said.

  I was going to say something, but I noticed Mom looking in her side mirror.

  "There's a car coming," Mom said.

  I looked out my window, but didn’t see anything. "Where?"

  "Roll down the window and look at that house over there," Mom said, her voice filled with urgency.

  I turned the key so I could use the electric windows, but Mom couldn't wait that long. She jumped out of the van and ran over to take a look.

  By the time I got my window open she'd already saw what she'd wanted to.

  "It's an Uber!" Mom said. "Quick block the way!"

  "How do you know it's an Uber?" I asked.

  "Hurry," Mom said. "He’ll realize he's at the wrong house, and then he'll go over to Angela's!"

  I tried to question Mom, but she pleaded with me to, "Make a U-turn, turn around."

  I put the van in drive and pulled forward. Mom cleared out of the way as I turned the wheel hard to the left. The dirt road was so small that I couldn't make it all the way around. The unevenness of the darn road didn't help either. Panicked from trying to hurry, I maneuvered the stick shift into what I hoped was reverse and promptly stalled out.

  Mom dashed up to the window of the van. "Good job, kid! Pretend like you can't start it,” she said and tossed her cellphone into my lap. "Call DC, tell him to hurry while I stall."

  My acting skills are shoddy at best, but pretending to be an incompetent, flustered catering van driver wouldn't be much of a stretch.

  The car Mom spotted drove up to my van. Mom ran up to him.

  "Mrs. Murphy!” the guy yelled out the window as Mom approached his car. I shouldn't have been surprised. Mom knew everyone in Fletcher Canyon.

  Then it occurred to me, if Mom was right about the Uber, then Charles was still at the house and trying to leave. I grabbed Mom's phone, looked up DC's number, and hit call just as I spotted Charles putting his suitcases in the driveway. Could he see his Uber on the other side of my van?

  DC picked up. "Please be close by," I said.

  "Do not engage with the suspect. This is a matter for the police," he said.

  "Mom is out of the van taking to Charles's Uber driver. I don't know what she's doing, but your suspect is trying to flee the area."

  "Then I suggest you and your m
other get to safety," he said.

  The man was so infuriating. "Will you answer one question one darn time? Are you on your way or not?" I said, my voice shrill with panic.

  "I'm fifteen minutes away. I need you and your mother to be safe, okay?"

  The concern in his voice took me off guard, but then Charles approached the van. I tossed the phone into the passenger seat.

  "I need you to move this van," the man said, "I'm expecting–"

  That's when I noticed the Uber driver driving away. Charles darted around the van to run after the Uber.

  "I stalled out. Give me a minute," I yelled after him, hoping to distract him. He turned back to me and his Uber turned the corner.

  Mom came back to the van. Charles stopped her.

  "Excuse me, I saw you talking to that driver. Do you know if that car was looking for 4 Mountainside Road?" he asked. "The street isn't marked."

  "Yes," Mom answered.

  "Well, this is 4 Mountainside," he said. "I guess I'll just call him back."

  Rats! The driver couldn't be more than a minute away.

  Mom stopped Charles. “He got called away and said to tell you he's sorry.”

  "I guess the app will just send another car," Charles said squinting to see his cell phone. "I must've left my glasses in the house."

  "I'll do it for you," Mom said.

  "No, that's all right. I'll call from the house," he said .

  "No," Mom stalled. "We'll give you a ride. Pull the van up to the house, kid."

  "Wait a minute, aren't you from the party?" Charles said. My stomach turned under they tension.

  "Yes!" Mom said. "It'll take ages for another Uber to get here. Fletcher Canyon isn't exactly on the way to many places. Solomon is the only driver who lives in town, and he drives for all of those car places."

  The man shook his head. "I don't want to miss my plane. Would a cab get here within the hour?"

  "No," Mom said simply. "I'm surprised you're not staying for the funeral," Mom said as she and Charles walked back toward the house. I could kill her. She was going to interrogate the man!

  But they were already walking to the house. I had no choice but to start up the van and follow them. It took a billion small turns to get the van going in the right direction and into the driveway, but I did it. Charles had gone inside.

  I rushed out of the van and over to Mom. "What are you doing?"

  "Is DC on the way?"

  "He said he was about fifteen minutes away," I said.

  "The we'll just stall," Mom said.

  "Doing what?" I asked.

  Mom's eyes widened with delight. "We can crash the van."

  "Are you crazy? We're on the side of a mountain, we could die. Heck, he could throw us off that drop right over there," I said as I pointed to the steep drop about forty yards away from the van just to the right of Angela Hardy's house.

  "He's not strong enough to drag both of us," Mom said.

  "Me, maybe not, but you're not even a hundred pounds," I said. "But he is old. Maybe I could take him in a fight."

  "What brings you ladies out here, anyway?" Charles asked as he exited the house with another suitcase. He startled me, but I don't think he heard our whispering.

  "I heard you might be moving back to town," Mom said.

  Mom thought faster on her feet than anyone. I was busy trying to size up whether I could wrestle Mom away from this guy if he went all murder-y on us.

  "Where did you hear that?" Charles asked. His tone was cautious.

  "You told me at the party!" Mom said with a laugh.

  Charles laughed back. "I'd forgotten." Then he thought about it and said, "but I still don't understand why you're here."

  "I thought that since you hadn't lived here in a while and you weren't married, you might appreciate going out to lunch. But it looks like you're heading out of town. I figured at least we could give you a ride, and perhaps we can have lunch when you get back."

  I watched as Charles blushed under Mom's attention. "Well that's nice of you, but it looks like I'm going to stay in Florida."

  "That's a shame," Mom said.

  "Yeah, it is," Charles said, and he genuinely sounded sad. "Are you sure you're okay with giving me a ride? LAX is pretty far."

  "It's no problem," Mom answered. "You can put your luggage in the back." She took the keys from me and walked over to the van to unlock the back door.

  "Is your daughter going to come out to say goodbye?" I asked.

  "No, she's at work," he said throwing the luggage into the van. The suitcases looked heavy, and he didn't seem to have a problem lifting them. My self esteem sank as I realized that I had a high chance of losing in a physical altercation with someone five decades my senior.

  I spotted an old white Ford pickup park on the street, and DC stepped out of it. He’d come on his day off. I felt guilty and relieved. I nudged Mom, and she gave me a quick nod letting me know she’d seen DC as well.

  "You seem so nice," Mom said to Charles as she shut the van doors and turned the key to lock it. "It's a shame you poisoned Harold Sanders like that."

  My mouth dropped open as did Charles's. Mom walked back toward the driver's side of the van. He followed, his attention focused on Mom. He didn't notice DC coming up the drive.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered.

  "Did you leave the poison in the darkroom or is it in your suitcase?" Mom asked.

  The look on his face told us the answer. "Give me that key," Charles said, stepping closer to Mom. DC stood right next to me just a few feet from Mom, but Charles's back was to DC now. Smart move on Mom's part stepping to the side of the van, but I didn't like this dangerous line of questioning.

  "I saw you go upstairs before Edna arrived at the party," Mom said. "You said you were lost, but Celia said you were over the day before. The day he got the ring for Edna."

  "I should have known she'd never marry that grouchy old fool. He was so sure of himself."

  "And you killed him," Mom said.

  "You can't prove a thing," Charles said.

  "But I think I can," DC interrupted.

  Charles's jumped at the sound of DC's voice.

  "You should confess," Mom said putting her arm on Charles' shoulder. "The guilt must be unbearable."

  The man burst into tears like a little boy. "I'd loved Edna forever. He'd always had his family's money. It made life so easy for him. When I heard she was single, I thought after all these years I had a shot. But he stole it!" Charles sobbed.

  "So you went to the party," Mom said.

  I shot an incredulous look at DC, and he widened his eyes in amazement. My mother was coaxing this killer into confessing, just like she did with me when I ate cookies before dinner as a kid.

  "I put it in his drink. The second he swallowed it I regretted it. He thought he was having some kind of heart attack. He reached for his pills. I fled downstairs. A part of me hoped that someone would find him and call the ambulance in time."

  The man dissolved into tears. DC placed him under arrest and put him in the truck before coming over to say goodbye to us. "I told you not to engage with the suspect, you know." His voice wasn't too stern.

  "It wasn't me. It was Mom," I said.

  "We just offered him a ride to the airport," Mom said.

  Detective Cooper shook his head. Mom handed me the keys to the van and said, "Unlock the door so DC can get the suitcases."

  "Oh right," I said. I'd forgotten all about the luggage. I walked over to the back of the van, and DC followed me, but Mom didn't. DC stood next to me as I opened the doors and moved out of the way. He leaned into the van and grabbed the suitcases. He was so close I could smell the faint musky scent of his aftershave combined with the clean scent of soap.

  I closed the van as he effortlessly pulled out the suitcases and walked them over to his truck. Was I the only person who struggled with heavy luggage?

  I took a moment to admire DC’s biceps while he put the lu
ggage into the back of his truck. He turned and waved goodbye.

  "Come by and see us at the restaurant sometime," Mom said.

  DC looked right at me and said. "I'll have to do that."

  My face heated, and I fought like mad not to smile like a goofy teenager, but his look turned my limbs to mush.

  We watched him drive away and stood there for a minute. Mom broke the silence. “Let's get home and tell Celia she's not going to jail," Mom said.

  "Good idea,” I said, and we headed for the van. Even though the case was settled and the murderer confessed, I felt like there was a detail we were missing. But then we were driving down the mountain, and I forgot what it was I couldn’t remember.

  * * *

  As I pulled into the driveway, I remembered something. "Mom, did you say the Uber driver’s name was Solomon?"

  Mom nodded and took off her seatbelt and opened the door.

  "You mean the same Solomon who gave you a ride all the way to Hollywood to come visit me?"

  "Yes, he goes to Mission Hills College. He’s nice," she said and hopped out of the car.

  I followed her to our front door. "Mom, you told me your friend Solomon was going to Hollywood, and that’s why you were coming for lunch."

  "He was," Mom smiled.

  "He was because you used the app and had him drive you there. That was expensive, Mom," I said. Mom was on a fixed income because she opted to wait another eight years until she was 65 to collect her small pension from SAG and Dad’s teamster pension. The house was paid for, and she had savings, but she needed the money from the catering and the occasional acting/extra job (yes, she still got those every once in a while) for expenses.

  "You needed to get out of there," Mom said as we entered the house.

  Celia walked into the living room from the hallway. She must’ve been in my room watching television. Thank goodness she’d be able to go home soon. I wanted my room back.

  My room. So weird. I felt at home again, but was that a good thing? Was it a good idea for a woman my age to get comfortable sponging off her mother?