Trouble in Tawas
by
Madison Johns
Copyright © 2013 by Madison Johns
Trouble in Tawas Madison Johns
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead (unless explicitly noted) is merely coincidental.
Edited by http://ebookeditingpro.com/
Book cover by http://www.coverkicks.com/
Beta reader Mary
Sorenson
Acknowledgement
I’d like to thank all of my readers and fans of my Agnes Barton mystery series and also for my Facbook friends who have supported me. Special thanks to Susan Coils who made some of the most awesome covers ever. You have captured Agnes and Eleanor perfectly and I can’t thank you enough!
Dedication
I dedicate this book to my children Andrea and Luke who have lost so much, but still are my shining stars.
Other books by Madison Johns
Coffin Tales Season of Death
Armed and Outrageous
Grannies, Guns and Ghosts
Senior Snoops
Agnes Barton Senior Sleuth Mystery Box Set
Pretty and Pregnant
Redneck Romance
Chapter One
I carried my mail from the post office to the campground where I had been living for the last year in East Tawas, Michigan—in a Winnebago, no less. It was quite the walk, but at seventy-two a body needs to do as much exercising as possible.
I had just returned from Florida for the winter; a trip that Sheriff Peterson had set up. Just our luck, my fellow sleuthing buddy Eleanor and I solved a case while down there.
I’m Agnes Barton and I’m what folks in town call a senior sleuth. My house has just been rebuilt after it was firebombed, and I’m waiting on the inspectors—something to do with a snag with the building permit. All I know is, they are moving slower than molasses and they are testing my patience. My sidekick, Eleanor Mason, is eighty-two and quite a handful. She lives in a beach house directly on Lake Huron.
East Tawas is situated on Lake Huron, with a nice sized dock where yachts moored from spring to late fall. The campground is directly behind the bait shop, and that is where I’ve been staying. No tents are allowed. It’s all campers including a black one owned by the gypsy, Leotyne Williams-someone who saved my life via a magical necklace, or so I thought. We’re still trying to get used to each other and I hate to admit it, but she freaks me out! She even has one of those hell hounds that happens to be afraid of cats.
I made way into my camper and my cat, Duchess, was howling something fierce. “What is your problem now, Duchess?”
I spied her empty dish and proceeded to fill it with a can of tuna. I wished I had never started that habit. She now thinks she deserves a can every morning for breakfast.
The interior of my camper was purple and pink. That’s what I get for buying it at a police auction. My countertops were beige granite with flecks of black. I had painted the cupboards eggshell white to tone down the brightness of the purple walls and pink couches and dinette seats. I replaced the purple table with an oak one. It still shone from the lacquer finish.
I passed a mirror and smoothed my salt and pepper hair into place. I was one lucky duck for having a thick head of hair, but creases lined my face that most people would consider wrinkles. Most of them were around my mouth, but I still sported full, cherry red lips. I had slipped on blue crop pants and white sandals, with a matching white tee with a tiny emblem of an anchor on hastily this morning in hopes of getting an early start.
I sat the mail down, then shuffled through it until I came across a flyer. My eyes widened when I saw that it was a political flyer for Sheriff Clem Peterson. I had said for years that I would cause a stir at his re-election bid, and now was my chance. I slumped down in my seat. “Duchess, what should I do?” She looked up at me and blinked, as if to signal me to call my best friend Eleanor Mason, but I had already planned to visit her that day. Now was as good a time as any, so I ambled out the door, taking care as I descended the steps. The last thing I needed in my life was to fall and break a hip. Lord knows my hip had been acting up for years, but thus far, I had been spared the knife.
I got into my red Mustang and once the engine roared to life, I tooled out of the campground and on to US 23. Bathing suit clad beach-goers whizzed past on motorcycles, and I smiled. Sheriff Peterson hated motorcycles in town—too many flashbacks from the seventies, perhaps. As for me, I knew they were kids, except for the folks driving Harleys. For the most part, the older population drove those. I even knew a few motorcycle grandmas that roared into town every summer.
I slowed down as I passed the public beach. Lake Huron came into view with its pristine beaches. Not a wave in sight, and the sun shone overhead like a beacon. Charcoal grills fired up and the fragrance of cooking hot dogs wafted in the air, while seagulls overtook the picnic area, savaging for food. Shrill shrieks from children at the playground pierced the air. Yes, summer has begun.
The downtown area would be overloaded with tourists browsing through gift shops and eating at Marion’s Dairy Bar. That ice cream shop had been in business since 1945. It sported a sizable statue of a little boy holding an ice cream cone on its roof. Kinda reminded me of the Big Boy, but better. We also had a Dairy Queen in town, but there were many other places to find ice cream in East Tawas.
I pulled into Eleanor’s gravel drive and noticed the house sported a fresh coat of white paint. It wasn’t much to look at from the front except for a few windows and a door. Not even a hanging plant could be seen. She kept those on the deck. Eleanor also had a garage—painted white—and I hoped it contained her Cadillac. I’d hate to think she’d be driving to Walmart and running over some poor sap. Poor dear didn’t have the best driving skills.
I opened her door since sure enough, it wasn’t locked. I’d given up on that argument. Eleanor wasn’t the type to change anytime soon, except with the addition of her beau, Mr. Wilson. He’s kinda decrepit and uses a walker, but at least Eleanor had somebody to cuddle with now and then. I can’t be expected to entertain her all the time.
I had my own man, the hotshot lawyer Andrew Hart. He was also my former boss, but he was married back then. Who knew I’d reconnect with him at the age of seventy-two? We both were widowed, me at the age of forty-two. Life has been good since Andrew uttered the L-word, but I wished he were around more.
Eleanor and I were what you’d call senior snoops. We had even solved a cold case once. We had the great idea of starting a detective agency, but the paperwork still hadn’t cleared. I’d blame the good Sheriff Peterson for that. I’m just sure he told the state how unsafe it was having old bags like us investigating crimes. He probably told them about how we interfered with his investigations—that we pulled our pink lady revolvers out too much. We handed them in at the recent police auction.
I wandered through Eleanor’s house and froze when I saw something scuttle past me that was too big to be a mouse. I pressed myself against the kitchen cabinets as I panted out, “Eleanor!”
The screen to the patio door slid open and Eleanor’s white-haired head stuck through it. She giggled, causing her curls to bounce and then pressed her plus-sized bo
dy through the rest of the way. Her belly was concealed under a white tee with the word ‘Fuzzy’s’ in bright neon letters. Her yellow thongs poked out from under the white fuzzy pajama pants she wore.
“Aggie, what on earth?”
I clutched a fist over my heart. “I-I saw something scurry past me. Do you have rats?”
She frowned. “I sure hope not. What color was it?”
“I don’t know,” I gasped. “But it was big!”
Eleanor wrinkled up her pert nose and then her eyes widened. “Oh you must mean Mr. Tinkles.”
“Mr. What?”
Just then a small dachshund came ambling toward Eleanor, who picked up the miniature version of the breed and rubbed it under its chin. Why, this dog was mud puddle brown.
He panted, and gave Eleanor a good licking. Yuck was all I could think.
“Stop it Aggie, and be nice.”
“Nice? It’s a dog. I hope he’s not yours.”
She set the dog down, and it sat at El’s feet. “Just because you hate dogs doesn’t mean you have to be nasty about it. I need a pet too.”
“I’m not being nasty. I’m just not a dog person.” I tried to smile, but I just couldn’t. “Eleanor, you can barely take care of yourself. Dogs are hard work.”
“I know they are, but you have to admit he sure is a cutie.”
Just then the pint-sized dog promptly trotted over, lifted a leg, and peed on my foot! “Oh God! Eleanor, he just peed on me!” I grabbed a paper towel and wet it with soap and water, then tried to wash the urine off both me and my sandal.
“I know. That’s why his name is Mr. Tinkles.”
I frowned. “Perfect name, but he’s going to stink up your place with all that peeing.”
She raised a finger into the air. “That’s just the thing. He only pees on people he doesn’t know. I think he’s marking his territory.”
“Well, he needs to mark it somewhere else. I hope you don’t expect me to haul this pooch around with us.”
“Well, we can some of the time. I just hate the thought of Mr. Tinkles being alone all day.” She blinked at me. “We could take him with us to your place.”
“I think not! Besides, Duchess hates dogs,” I reminded her.
“I believe that was hell hounds, or one hell hound. Is Leotyne still at the campground?”
“Yes, but she moved across from me again. She might have mentioned that I needed to be protected.”
El sauntered to her black and white plaid sofa and sat. “Protected from what?”
“Who knows, but I’m listening to her. She has yet to steer me wrong.”
Eleanor drummed her fingers on her coffee table. “I like her, even if she’s batshit crazy.”
“That would sum up about all of us.” I grimaced. “I mean that’s what Sheriff Peterson would say about me.”
“Did you hear—”
I cut in with, “I heard. Sheriff Peterson is now up for a re-election bid and I just don’t know what to do?”
El shook her head. “No, I mean Hal Peterson has gone missing.”
“Sheriff Peterson’s dad?”
“Yup. The crotchety old man who was sprung from the County Medical Facility not long ago.”
I pursed my lips. “Didn’t he have a companion or something?”
“Yes, Raul something or other. He’s long gone too.”
“Well, maybe we should talk to Peterson and get the scoop. I can’t imagine having his dad on the missing list would be good for the election, unless—”
“It’s better for the election if he’s on cold storage somewhere.”
I motioned Eleanor up. “Come on then. We better get moving, daylights a wastin’.”
She jumped up, grabbed her large black purse and tossed Mr. Tinkles inside.
“Oh no you’re not,” I insisted.
“We can drop him at your place on the way.”
“No we can’t. I don’t want that flea bitten mutt in my camper.”
Mr. Tinkles lifted his snout out and growled at me in response. “You hurt his feelings, Aggie.”
“Fine, bring him along then, but I don’t like it a bit!”
There was no sense in arguing with Eleanor because it would be a waste of breath. She did exactly what she wanted and only if she wanted. I love Eleanor dearly, but I’m not so sure what’s going to happen when Duchess sees this pooch.
I gazed out the patio door as Eleanor closed it and put a metal rod in the track. It was blue sky and calm waters. I sure hoped it would go well with Peterson today. Lord knew the man can be impossible, but he had some hard questions to answer.
We walked out the front door and Eleanor ran to back her Caddy out of the garage. She zigzagged her way out, but did so without straying onto US 23 or running me over, so I was impressed. She hopped out and made her way into the passenger side, making herself comfortable inside. I slid behind the wheel and closed the door, staring at the blasted dog that I just wouldn’t admit was kinda cute. His snout poked out and looked so sad that I had to pat his head. Mr. Tinkles responded by wagging his tail, which moved his whole body.
Chapter Two
Once we had settled in the Caddy with me at the helm, I backed up onto US 23 directly in front of Dorothy Alton’s Buick. Brakes were screeched and horn was blasted, but I kept it moving. Dorothy was Eleanor’s nemesis, so no sense in stopping and listening to a bunch of veiled threats thrown about. I had to question Sheriff Peterson.
I dropped Mr. Tinkles off at my camper and Duchesses’ pupils grew big when we did. I imagine the poor dear didn’t know what to think as she ran for cover, but there was no time to stay while they got acquainted. El and I had to try and catch Peterson before he trekked off to parts unknown.
I made it to the sheriff’s department in record time and caught Peterson leaving. He was heading out to his car. I jerked to a stop and I made my way over to him as he sat in his cruiser. “Excuse me Peterson. I need to talk to you,” I said as I rapped on his window.
“We have questions, you mean, Aggie,” El piped up.
He unrolled his window a crack. “What is it this time? Another dead body with your name written all over it?”
I gripped the window with my fingers. “No, I heard your father Hal has turned up missing. Is that true?”
He unrolled the window more and promptly removed my fingers. “Let’s just say for arguments sake it is. What then?”
“I’d like to question you about it is all. It must be a distraction with you up for re-election and Hal missing is all.”
The sheriff swiped a hand over his sweat-dampened, dark hair. His tan tie had a visible mustard stain. The buttons of his brown sheriff’s shirt strained and were nearly unable to contain his many rolls, which he had accumulated by too many donuts from Tim Horton’s, no doubt. He was the most unfit sheriff yet.
After a lengthy pause he said, “I have no idea where my dad is.”
I pushed a stray lock of my hair back. “I thought you hired a companion for him?”
“I did.”
“What’s his name again?”
“It’s Raul,” Eleanor interjected.
I glared at her. “Would you let the sheriff answer, El!”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I was just trying to help!”
“Does this Raul have a last name?”
Peterson’s face turned beet red. “I’m the sheriff and unless I missed something you two are not the law.”
“I know, but perhaps we can be of some help here. Unless of course, you stashed your dad somewhere.”
He narrowed his eyes, slapping on a pair of mirrored sunglasses. “Why would I do that?”
“So the old man can’t make you look bad and hurt your political aspirations, for one.”
El slapped her knee and laughed. “Just because the man pees in public doesn’t mean he’d hurt Peterson’s chances of re-election.”
I grinned. “Then there are the hookers.”
Peterson raised a bro
w. “Hookers! Have you taken leave of your senses?”
I straightened up and thought for a moment and then shot back with, “No, I don’t think I have.”
“Well, he called us hookers, Aggie.”
“I know, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Of course not,” El agreed. “You give it away for free.”
“Are you two through? I don’t have all day to yap like you two.”
I should have been offended but I considered the source. “Just a few more questions if you please. Raul’s last name is?”
“Perez.”
“That’s not very Cuban sounding,” El pointed out. “It sounds Mexican.”
“Hispanic,” I corrected her. “The year is 2013, dear.”
“I get so messed up with everything. I hate all this politically correctness.”
Peterson started his car and it rolled back as I asked, “Did you file a missing person’s report?”
“No, he’s just run off. I’m sure he’ll be back when he runs out of money.”
I frowned. “Doesn’t he have dementia or something?”
“Yeah,” El said. “It can’t be safe for the old coot to be running around. He might get hurt.”
“Or at least find another way to ruin the election,” I fired back.
I moved out of the way as Peterson backed out and I hollered, “Don’t worry, El and I are on the case!”
Peterson sped away.
“Do you think he heard us?” I asked El.
“I’m not sure, Aggie, but he flipped us the bird.”
“He did not!”
“Maybe you need to get your eyes checked, dear.”
“Well… he better not let me see it or he’ll have the toughest election bid in the history of East Tawas!”
El patted my hand. “Calm down. Don’t let the man rile you so.”
“You’d think he’d be happy we are on the case.”
El blinked. “Since when has Peterson ever been happy with anything we’ve done?”
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