Madison Johns - Agnes Barton 04 - Trouble in Tawas

by Madison Johns

  “He would if he was on the down low.”

  I scratched my head. “Really, Eleanor? Where do you pick up all these slang words?”

  “Dr. Phil,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

  “I’m just not so sure, but I suppose you are right. Where does that leave us?”

  “We need to find Harry is what. He’s the root of the mystery.”

  “I’m just not so certain. How many times before have we thought we had it figured out just to find out we had the wrong suspect? Plus, we don’t even know if Harry owns a Hummer.”

  El’s eyes widened as she looked toward the house. I turned in time as a woman blond e with flowing dark hair approached us—the material of her white blouse and slacks flapping in the wind. “Can I help you ladies?” she asked, looking down her pointed nose at us like we were an annoyance.

  I pushed my shoulders back a notch and said, “Yes, we’re investigating a case and it led us here.”

  “Case? What kind of case?”

  “A murder investigation actually.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “Well, I don’t know anything about any murder. They never said anything about a murder here in Tawas on the news.”

  “Maybe they haven’t released any information yet.”

  She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, and shook one out. “They said a Raul Perez died at a rental house, but that foul play wasn’t involved.”

  “I hope you don’t mind if I light up. I don’t smoke in the house.”

  “Actually I really wish you wouldn’t. I have asthma,” I lied. Truth was, I hated the smell of smoke and couldn’t understand why anyone would do such a dreadful thing.

  The smile on her face vanished. “Very well. I also heard a woman died at the beach, possible drowning, I suppose.”

  I went into full-on detective mode as I grilled her. “Why would you think that?”

  “I-I don’t know. It’s an educated guess.”

  “Based on what?”

  “What else could it be in a small town such as this?”

  “Oh I don’t know,” El laughed. She hushed when I gave her one of my looks.

  “Oh I don’t know. I found a floater once and it wasn’t a drowning.”

  Her green eyes widened into round orbs. “A what?”

  “Don’t you watch CSI? It’s police jargon for when you find a body in the water.”

  “I don’t watch shows like that,” she laughed nervously. “I’m more into shows on the Food Network.”

  El rolled back on her heels. “Really? I had you pegged more for a Lifetime movie fan.”

  “Not at all,” she insisted.

  I smiled smugly. “We’ve solved a variety of cases right here in Tawas. In a more recent case a man was pushed to his death out a third floor window.”

  “The widow blamed a ghost if you can believe that,” El added. “We’re experienced investigators.”

  “You mean like Jessica Fletcher?”

  “I thought you didn’t watch crime shows?” I asked.

  “No, but my mom was a big Murder, She Wrote fan.”

  “I see. We’re just as smart and savvy as any television detective.”

  “Do you have any more questions before you vacate my property? I have a pot roast on.”

  Not appreciating her willingness to dismiss us, I asked, “Do you own this house?”

  She pursed her lips and answered with a snarl. “I don’t see how it’s any concern of yours?”

  “It’s just a simple question, but if you have something to hide—”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Of course not!”

  “Well then?”

  “My husband owns the house.”

  El smiled sweetly. “Just your husband and not you?”

  She relaxed a bit at El’s approach. “It’s a tax shelter. He makes less than I do.”

  “Really? And what do you do for a living, might I ask?”

  “I’m an author. I’d rather keep my name private if you don’t mind.”

  Wow, how unexpected. “I love to read books. What kind do you write?”

  Her eyes darted to the side. “I don’t see what this matters.”

  “Just curious.”

  “R-Romance,” she stuttered.

  “Trashy ones?” asked El. “I love a good trashy novel.”

  “Okay fine. I write historical romance if you need to know, and none of them involve murder.”

  “Please give us your name.”

  “Sasha Murphy.”

  “You’re S. S. Murphy the bestselling erotica author?” El asked, with stars in her eyes.

  “Yes, but please be discreet. I came up here to write, not be bothered.”

  “I read your last book, ‘Highland Honey’,” El admitted. She motioned with her finger, touching it to her hip and made a sizzle sound. “Hot! I loved that book.”

  “What’s your husband’s name?” I asked.

  “Harry, Harry Hunan.”

  “I see. And are you positive your husband owns this house and not someone else?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Is that all?”

  “Yes. Is your husband home?”

  “No, Harry won’t be home anytime soon. He has business in Oscoda today.”

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “I don’t see what this has anything to do with your case, which by the way, you never told me what it is. Your case I mean.”

  “We can’t tell you that, our client wishes us to not divulge any more information than necessary.”

  “I feel the same way. Harry’s occupation isn’t your business and I’m not about to tell you.”

  “You do know that this will lead us to believe you’re hiding something.”

  She squared her shoulders and ordered us off the property. “Leave before I call the police.”

  “You don’t have to get your bloomers in a bunch,” I said. “We’ll leave, but you might want to tell your husband that we’ll be back to question him.”

  In a whirl she marched back into the house and El and I hurried to the car as we heard the sound of dogs barking. “Hurry, Aggie. She’s releasing the hounds on us.”

  We made it safely to the station wagon and I drove out the way I came. I made a stop at the state park and paid my fee, heading for the point. It had been years since I had seen the lighthouse at the point. It was the perfect out of the way spot for us to discuss our case.

  I stared up at the still functional Victorian era lighthouse. As part of the guest keepers program you can stay at the restored lightkeeper’s quarters and pay for the unique opportunity to be the lightkeeper.

  “Wh y at are w e here e doing here ?” El asked.

  “Because I love it here. I’m trying to absorb what Sasha Murphy said. If that’s really her name.”

  “You want me to check?” asked El, pulling out her smartphone.

  “Good luck with finding service out here.”

  Soon El was frowning and admitted, “How right you are. I guess we’ll have to check when we get home.”

  “I’m not sure I’m buying a word that woman said. It’s not like she was all that forthcoming and how did she know a woman died at the beach?”

  “Maybe you should change your approach. Soften your tone a bit.”

  “I was being the bad cop. You are suppose to reign me in when I go too far.”

  Eleanor giggled. “Oh really? I was under the impression you were the one who liked to do all the questioning.”

  “No, not really. We’re a team here, El.”

  She doubled a fist and lightly tapped me. “We sure are. She did give us the name of her husband and it matched what we found on Facebook.”

  “I wonder what kind of car he drives.”

  “If he’s the same man we saw at Fuzzy’s, he drove a sedan.”

  “I was hoping for a Hummer.”

  “He might own one of those too, but what we need is reliable information. I wonder if one of the tenants sa
w more than they’re admitting.”

  “Which one exactly? I hope you aren’t planning to make me go back and try to question the alien man Rob again?”

  “He’ll be at Hidden Cove tonight. I heard he has a group that meets over there on Thursday nights.”

  I slapped a hand over my head. “Oh great!”

  “Maybe we should bring Martha. It can’t hurt.”

  It bothered me that Sasha knew a woman was found at the beach, but never said it was mentioned on the news. Who or how did she find out that bit of information?

  Chapter F ourteen ifteen

  El and I brought KFC back to my Winnebago, and Martha grinned like child receiving candy. “It’s about time you brought food home. I was getting tired of hotdogs,” she said, referring to the only thing in our refrigerator.

  “I was kind of hoping you could come with us to Hidden Cove later. We could use some help,” I suggested, with a wicked grin.

  Martha’s brow shot up. “Not with the guy at the impound yard I hope.”

  “No. Rob Glasier. He’s one of the tenants that lives in an apartment in the same house where Raul died,” I elaborated.

  “On the news they identified the body found at the beach.”

  I gathered paper plates and asked, “Really?”

  “Maria Sanchez. They still aren’t certain about her cause of death as of yet except to say an autopsy was being done.”

  “That’s to be expected. Hopefully they come back with something other than a drowning.”

  Martha scooped potatoes and gravy onto her plate. “Have you ever thought that’s all it was, a drowning?”

  “I’m keeping my mind open, but my gut says her death, and that of Raul, are related.”

  “That’s what you always think. Everything in the world isn’t related you know.”

  “I know that! Geeze, Martha! I’m not that one sided.”

  “Yes you are and as narrow minded as they come , w . W hich, by the way, Sophia called. You need to let her live her own life. She’s not marrying Trooper Sales, you know. She doesn’t want to.”

  “She wants to all right, but I just think under the circumstances, she’s unsure of Bill’s feelings.”

  “You know that man is crazy in love with Sophia. She just doesn’t want to push him into marrying her since she’s pregnant is all.”

  “In my day—”

  “This isn’t the dark ages, Mother. Leave those kids alone to handle their own affairs. It will all work out.”

  I shut my mouth and ate in silence. El shot me a sympathetic glance, but I knew there was some merit in what Martha had said. I can’t push my way of thinking on Sophia. Maybe in time she’ll come to her own conclusions, one that works out for both her and Bill.

  Hours later, I changed into black slacks and a white blouse, whereas Martha wore skinny jeans and a leopard print clingy shirt, sky-high heels on her feet. Her hair was as wild as all go out, like something you’d see in the eighties, but I had learned at this point to keep my views of Martha’s choice of clothing to myself.

  We made sure to take Mr. Tinkles outside before we left. The last thing I needed was to come back to a trailer smelling of dog urine. I drove to El’s house and quickly changed into black leggings and a floral print shirt overtop. She had sense enough to at least wear sensible footwear in the form of flats. She had picked out her grey hair to cover up all the thin spots, and I must admit, this is the most put together I have seen her since Mr. Wilson left town. I felt the same, too. Without my sweetie Andrew, I felt lost and struggled some days to even throw on makeup to look presentable. I had left vanity in the past. I’m in my seventies, after all.

  When we arrived at Hidden Cove, the parking lot was packed. We walked in together and the first person I saw and heard was Mrs. Barry, loudly talking to patrons of the bar-slash-restaurant. “Yes, Sheriff Peterson is unfit to be re-elected as sheriff. His own father is suspected in a suspicious death and has since been arrested for credit card fraud .”

  Her eyes widened when she spotted me. “And those women over there have been allowed to have free rein for far too long.”

  “That’s Agnes Barton and Eleanor Mason,” a thin-faced woman said. “They have helped solve crimes in East Tawas.”

  “That’s exactly my point. They shouldn’t be allowed to do that at all. That’s what the sheriff and state police are for. All they are good for is getting in the way.”

  El had to hold me back, but then a male voice split the roar of chatter. “Now that’s not fair. How would you know when you don’t even live here, Mrs. Barry?”

  “W-Well, I-I,” her eyes round as saucers. “W-Who are you?”

  A beaming Andrew Hart appeared from behind the crowd, dressed impeccably in brown trousers and white shirt, open at the neck. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back. “Agnes Barton is my girl if you need to know,” he winked.

  My heart did a flip flop right then and there. Mrs. Barry and her crowd scattered and I hugged Andrew tightly to me. “I thought you’d never come back to town.”

  “Oh come now. I love you, old girl. I just heard Hal Peterson has been arrested for credit card fraud . Is that true?”

  “I know now. I sure hope you can help the old geezer out. He’s not responsible for his actions,” I informed him. I then caught him up to speed on what was going on and what El and I had been doing.

  “First thing tomorrow I will. It’s too late for us to do much about it tonight.” He looked over at El and announced, “I heard Mr. Wilson will be home tomorrow.”

  El blushed. “Thanks for the info. I sure missed his tuna casserole. It’s the best in town you know.”

  We all laughed and Andrew said, “Oh, I remember. It’s a specialty of his, but can he cook anything else?”

  El looked away, and I for one was glad she didn’t elaborate. I sashayed away from the glaring Mrs. Barry and we waited at the bar until we all had a drink in our hands, then wandered out onto the packed deck, but not enough that I couldn’t see Rob Glasier’s red face beneath the deck lights. He was currently leaning over the railing with binoculars pressed tightly to his face.

  It didn’t take that much imagination on my part to know what he was looking for. Why, it wasn’t long ago that El and I had spotted a ghost ship, standing in the same spot.

  El chuckled. “I bet he’s looking for UFOs.”

  Andrew’s brows furrowed. “Did I hear that right? As in Unidentified Flying Object?”

  I nodded and crossed the deck to tap on Rob’s shoulder. He whirled, nearly toppling a table full of drinks. “Oh, hello there. I didn’t know the Air Force was planning to show tonight.”

  “Air Force?” Andrew asked. “Never mind, I’d rather not know,” he quickly added when I gave him a sharp look.

  “We heard you might be here,” El started. “We’re a little curious about your methods. Like how do you spot a UFO?”

  “I have a map.” He pulled it out and began pointing to different celestial points of interest. Some of these were stars, but he pointed to a spot above the Big Dipper. “This one may be a UFO, but I won’t know unless it moves.”

  “It could be a planet,” El pointed out.

  I nodded in agreement. “She’s right.”

  “There was a UFO crash last night.”

  “Really?” El tried hard to conceal her laughter. “Where about?”

  “In Lake Huron. Why else would I be here?”

  “I have no idea, but if it crashed into the lake how come nobody caught it on camera?”

  He yanked out photos from his vest pocket and handed them to me. Each of the pictures depicted a glowing light in lower positions, almost like it was moving. I wrinkled my brow. “For all we know, these are fakes. There is no such thing as a UFO.”

  “That’s what they pay you to say, but I told you earlier I saw an alien at my apartment building. He’s responsible for Raul’s death. I saw him push Raul down the stairs.”

  “Saw him how?” El butted in. �
�Through the keyhole?”

  “I had my door opened a crack.”

  “Why?” I pressed.

  “I heard arguing coming from the hallway. When I glanced out I heard a loud scuffling and then—bang, Raul tumbled down the stairs.”

  “You saw an alien push him?”

  “That’s right. He was the tall alien I told you about the other day.”

  “The same one who drove a flying Hummer?”

  “Yes, but he didn’t fly away that day. He drove away.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You certainly have your stories mixed up. I have a hard time believing the alien ever flew away in a Hummer.”

  “Yeah,” El exclaimed. “Aliens have sense enough to bring a flying saucer.”

  “I saw him fly away I tell you, just not that day.”

  “What time did this happen?”

  “It was late, about nine o’clock.”

  “Did you actually check and see Raul at the bottom of the stairs?”

  “Are you crazy? I didn’t want the alien coming after me.”

  “Did you call 911?”

  “I can’t. I was told if I ever called them again, they’d lock me up in a loony bin.”

  “An actual 911 operator said that?”

  “No, but the sheriff did.”

  I shifted to my good hip. “I see. How many times did you call 911 recently?”

  “At least four or five times a day until they warned me not to.”

  “And all the calls pertained to aliens or UFOs?”

  “Yes.”

  It’s no wonder they never took this man seriously. “Why didn’t you tell us this the other day, if it happened?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

  “Tall aliens with red glowing eyes is quite believable to me,” I mocked Rob. “I imagine if you called and reported a man had fallen down the steps, an ambulance would have showed up.”

  “Yeah,” El spat. “If rescue workers had gotten there in time, Raul stood a chance of living.”

  “We don’t know that, El, but good point. You’re just as responsible for not calling for help. You could have asked one of your neighbors to call.”

  Rob scratched his head. “I never thought about that.”