Traces of the Past

by Steve Laracy

  “Do you think the chute has been cut?” Ben asked.

  “It’s hard to tell,” I responded.

  “What’s your next step?”

  Having no idea what my next step in the investigation would be, I responded, “Supper.”

  Ben agreed this was a good idea, and we both headed out into the heat.

  When I reached the boardinghouse, Doc and Leo were standing in the hall preparing to leave.

  “How’s Billy?” I asked Doc.

  “Never made it to the hospital. Died in the ambulance. The ambulance just turned around and took him to the coroner in Bell City.”

  “That’s too bad. Did he say anything before he died?”

  “No. He never regained consciousness. It’s better that way.”

  “I guess maybe you’re right,” I said as Doc and Leo headed out the door.

  > CHAPTER 15

  TUESDAY NIGHT AT THE BIJOU

  Dinner turned out to be hot open-faced sandwiches using the leftover pot roast from the previous evening. Felicity explained that she had prepared something quickly since it was Tuesday night, which was movie night in the library. She had thought about canceling after the accident at the fair but thought it was better to keep to the usual routine. This would also give residents the chance to be together and talk things out.

  All four of her boarders were present. Most of the conversation centered around the events at the fairground. Other than that, there was little conversation, and everyone went their separate ways after dinner. I again assisted with the dishes.

  “You deserve a cut rate on the room for all the help you give me,” Felicity said.

  “That’s all right. If you hadn’t noticed, I enjoy being around you.” I thought I saw her blush a little. “By the way, what is the room rate? I forgot to ask.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, smiling. “You can afford it, Sheriff.” News travels fast in Cordoba.

  After cleaning up the dishes, we went to the parlor to prepare for the movie. We turned the furniture around and pushed it toward the fireplace to make room for about a dozen folding metal chairs which were lined in three rows facing the front of the building. I then helped Felicity set up the portable movie screen and the projector in the rear of the room.

  Since there was a little time before the first and only showing, we returned to the dining room for a cup of coffee.

  “Phil will be over in a little while with the film. He has a friend in Los Angeles who collects old films, and Phil borrows them so we can have a feature film every couple of weeks.”

  “I believe you said it’s The Big Sleep tonight.”

  “Yes. It’s one of Fred’s favorite movies, although he has a little trouble following the storyline.”

  “He’s not alone there. It would take a better detective than me to follow the plot of that movie.”

  Felicity laughed. “You’re welcome to stay and watch. There’s no charge, you know.”

  “Well, the price is right but no thanks. Watching an old film in the parlor is not my idea of lively Tuesday night.”

  Now Felicity turned angry. “You know, Milo, sometimes you infuriate me. You seem so nice but all the time I get the feeling you’re laughing at the hicks of Cordoba behind our backs. I guess you’ll be glad when your car is fixed, and you can get out of here. Well, don’t worry, the town will survive just fine without you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, and you’re right about the way I felt about Cordoba when I arrived. However, I think of the town in a different light since I’ve been here a few days. Everyone seems to get along with one another, and there’s a quiet air of contentment among the citizens. I guess my big city rudeness still rears its ugly head every once in a while.”

  “All right, I forgive you. Come on in the kitchen and help me make the popcorn.”

  “You got it. And maybe I will stay for the movie.”

  The crowd arrived shortly thereafter. Most of the people I had already met or seen around town. Phil Childers arrived with the film, his wife Phyllis, and Ben Nye. Phil introduced me to Phyllis and headed to the projector to thread the film. Sam and her family showed up next, followed by Frank Blaine. He explained that he usually closed the tavern on movie nights so he could attend. Also, there was no business at the tavern with his regular customers attending the showing.

  “We hear you’re either keeping Sam out of trouble or getting her into it,” said Bert. I learned that Bert was an elementary school teacher in Bell City, and Millie also worked part-time at the school.

  Indian Charlie was the next to arrive, and he handed Felicity the copy of Crime and Punishment as he walked in. She feigned anger.

  “It’s about time,” she said. “I was wondering if you were going to return it. What’s next?”

  “I’d like to read Herodotus, The Histories if you have a copy.”

  “I doubt it. But maybe I can pick up a copy at the Bell City library.”

  Indian Charlie thanked her and entered the parlor. Dobbs came downstairs and eagerly took a seat in the front row.

  “A good chance for him to learn fresh dialogue, I guess,” I said.

  “Oh, he already knows it by heart, but he never misses a showing,” said Felicity.

  By that time all the seats were filled and several of the children were sitting on the floor in front of the screen.

  “It looks like a good turnout,” I said as Felicity and I passed out bowls of popcorn.

  “Yes, there’s normally a good crowd,” Felicity replied. “Everybody in town has stopped in at one time or another—except for Mrs. Cavendish, that is. If there’s a movie she’s interested in, she borrows it from Phil and watches up in her house.”

  “She did seem quite standoffish.”

  “I think she’s a nice person under the veneer. We have to find a way to let that person out.”

  By that time the movie was starting, and Felicity and I moved to the back of the room. She took a seat on an empty chair and I stood next to her. The picture was grainy but that didn’t seem to bother anyone, including me. The sound was not of high quality but was enhanced by the voice of Fred Dobbs, who echoed the dialogue of every character.

  I was just getting into the movie and taking mental notes on the way Bogie sweet-talked the owner of the bookstore across the street from the storefront he was watching. In my business, detective movies are instructional films, and besides, I knew a book owner I might like to try the lines on.

  At that point, I heard footsteps coming down the staircase. I looked out the door on the right, which was ajar, and saw a shadow pass and leave through the front door.

  Time to do some detective work of my own, I thought. I gave a quick look to Felicity, who had also seen the person leave. She gave me a slight nod.

  I leaned over and whispered, “Flashlight?”

  “In the drawer in the hall.”

  As I crept out of the room, she whispered, “Be careful.”

  > CHAPTER 16

  COSTELLO TAKES A WALK

  Standing on the porch, I saw Costello on the corner lighting a cigar. This would make it easier to follow him in the darkness, but the brightness of the desert stars and moon already provided enough light. Costello turned down Main Street and started in the direction of the diner. Along the way he stopped and took a puff on his cigar, which illuminated his face, giving it a devilish look. He continued walking until he came to the diner, which was unlit. After looking around for a minute, he took the gravel path that led to the back of the diner.

  I kept a distance and used my experience to stay out of sight. Costello was gone for about five minutes before returning to the front of the diner. He then stood around for another minute and continued up Main Street before turning left at the next intersection.

  I waited a few minutes for Costello to get down the street, then walked over to the diner, pulled out the flashlight, and searched the ground as I made my way to the back. I saw nothing unu
sual on my journey, and I was about to return to the front when the flashlight illuminated a pile of cigar ashes sitting at the base of the old water tank.

  Upon closer inspection, I discovered that several screws had been loosened on the door at the bottom of the tank. I removed the screws without the use of a screwdriver, at which point the door fell loose, enabling me to peer inside. I shone the flashlight on the floor of the tank and then looked up the walls. The tank was empty. I wondered if it had been empty a few minutes earlier, or if Costello had removed the screws during his visit, removed something from inside, and replaced the door without bothering to tighten the screws.

  Finding nothing else suspicious around back, I returned to Main Street and took the route that Costello had taken. When I reached the corner of Elm Street, I noticed the light on the Flagg sisters’ porch was on and they were sitting in their assigned seats. Costello was seated in an Adirondack chair next to the swing and was talking with the sisters.

  When he noticed me approaching, he waved his hand. “Hello, Forbes, or should I say Sheriff?” he said. “Had enough of the movie?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It looked like a nice night, so I thought I would take a walk around town.”

  “I had the same thought. I guess great minds think alike.” Then he added, “Perhaps you should check the diner. As I was sitting here with the sisters, we thought we saw movement and a light, possibly a flashlight, out behind the diner. Didn’t we, ladies? I notice you also have a flashlight.”

  The sisters nodded their assent in unison.

  “Yes,” I responded. “You never know when a flashlight might come in handy. Or, for that matter, a screwdriver.”

  With that, Costello got up to leave. As he passed me on the porch, he said, “I seem to see quite a bit of you around town, sort of like little Sam. As for me, I think I’ve had enough detective work for one night. I’ll leave that to you. A man could get hurt if he gets too curious around the wrong people.”

  “Are you one of the wrong people, Costello?” I growled.

  “Oh, heavens no,” he replied. “I’m harmless, but I can’t vouch for several other people in this town. Good night, ladies.” And with that, he walked away.

  I sat down in the chair Costello had vacated. I decided to avoid further embarrassment by not tailing Costello again.

  “Would you like tea?” Ruth asked.

  “We’re all out of lemonade,” said Mabel.

  “But you can have some tea,” added Jewell.

  “No thanks,” I said. “What do you think of Mr. Costello?”

  “He seems like a nice man.”

  “But he seems a little scary at times.”

  “And he smokes a cigar.”

  I had to agree with Mabel on that one.

  Changing the subject, I said, “Why aren’t you ladies at the movies tonight?”

  “We don’t go out much.”

  “We prefer people to come to us.”

  “Once in a while, we attend if it’s the kind of film we like.”

  “Like a musical.”

  “Or a comedy.”

  “Not gangster movies.”

  “I bet Mr. Costello likes gangster movies.”

  “I bet he does,” I chimed in.

  I nodded over at the house that Frank and Hilda shared and asked the sisters, “Do you ever see Frank and Hilda sitting on their porch?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “They never sit on the porch.”

  “The only time we see them is when they walk back and forth to and from the diner.”

  “One comes up.”

  “A little while later one goes down.”

  “Sometimes we hear them talking or arguing.”

  “Not that we would snoop.”

  “Heavens to Betsy, no.”

  I thought maybe the telescope I had seen in the upstairs window was not for stargazing, so I said, “Have you seen anything unusual out back of the diner before the intruder you saw last week?”

  “Nothing unusual,” Ruth answered.

  “How about Frank,” Mabel chided Ruth.

  “Yes, Frank was out the next morning,” Jewell said.

  “Before dawn, he took a sack and threw it in his truck and headed out of town,” Ruth said.

  “Passed right down the street headed for Chiquita,” said Mabel.

  “Not that we were snooping,” said Jewell.

  “Reminded me of the time I was stranded in the Petrified Forest,” said Ruth.

  With that, I knew I would get no more useful information, so I said, “Well, ladies, I better make my way back to the boardinghouse. I don’t want to be walking the streets too late at night.”

  “Heavens to Betsy, no,” the three said together as I left.

  > CHAPTER 17

  DAY THREE

  When I came downstairs the next morning, Costello was holding a copy of the racing form and talking to someone on the wall phone in the hall. The phone was one of the old types that had a dial rather than buttons. As I walked by, I overheard part of the conversation.

  “Put a sawbuck on Foxtrot to win in the third at Gulfstream and another for I Love Lucy across the board in the fifth at Aqueduct.”

  Felicity was coming in the front door with the morning paper. I walked over and said, “I didn’t know they made those things anymore,” gesturing toward the phone.

  “Oh, that’s an old one. Hector is good at electronics and he rewired it or whatever you do to make it work with today’s technology. There’s another one like it installed in the diner. I’ll go get breakfast ready.”

  “I’ll help,” I said.

  We walked past Costello on our way to the kitchen; he was just hanging up the receiver. There was a little bowl on the table under the phone. Above the bowl was a handwritten sign taped to the wall which said, “A nickel per call, please.” There were a few coins in the bowl. Costello started to walk away and then noticed me looking at the bowl and put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a quarter, and threw it in the bowl.

  I continued toward the kitchen. When I reached the door, I glanced behind me in time to see Costello retrieving his quarter and replacing it in his pocket.

  Breakfast was sausage gravy over buttermilk biscuits. The three other boarders ate and left. Costello did not mention the previous night, nor did I.

  After breakfast, Costello went upstairs and came down a few minutes later with an overnight bag and went outside. I watched through the front window as he got into his rental car and drove off. I decided that there was no sense tailing him further and decided I’d prefer coffee in the parlor with Felicity.

  “Did Costello check out?” I asked Felicity as we settled in.

  “No, he said he was taking a side trip and would be back in a day or two,” Felicity responded. “How did it go last night?”

  I filled her in on the details, leaving out the embarrassing parts.

  “I have my suspicions about our Costello,” I said.

  “Maybe he was telling the truth about checking on the diner the same as you,” Felicity said.

  “I doubt it. The door on that water tank was undisturbed when I looked at it yesterday morning, so somebody tampered with it between then and last night. Seems logical that Costello did it while he was back there.”

  “I guess you’re right. But why would anybody be concerned about the insides of a dirty old water tank?”

  “Beats me. Maybe Lucky O’Leary was back there looking for the Lost Dutchman’s gold.”

  Felicity laughed. “Just the same, please be careful when you’re snooping around, and especially around Mr. Costello.”

  “Well, I believe you’re starting to worry about me a little bit.”

  “Of course I am.” Felicity smiled. “I can’t afford to lose a good boarder. And do you know how hard it is to get bloodstains out of a carpet?”

  “I still can’t figure out what Costello, or whoever he is, is looking for. Frank and Hilda don’t seem to have anything valuable. By the
way, they seem a strange couple. What’s their relationship? Husband and wife? Brother and sister?”

  “You mean you don’t know?” Felicity asked, surprised.

  “Know what?”

  “For a private detective, you’re not very observant.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Frank and Hilda are the same person.”

  “The same person?” I asked.

  “Yes. Frank dresses up as Hilda during the day, putting on a fat suit and a dress and a lot of makeup, and runs the diner. At night he goes home and switches back to Frank and runs the tavern.”

  “No. I would have picked up on that.”

  “Think about it. Haven’t you noticed the similar facial features? And nobody has ever seen the two of them together.”

  “I’ve never seen Martha Stewart and Fidel Castro together either,” I came back, “but I’m pretty sure they’re not the same person. And the Flagg sisters hear them talking and arguing. Not that they’re snooping,” I added.

  “Others have heard them talking, but nobody has seen them talking. I think Frank has been doing this for so long that at some point, Hilda became a reality to him. Now, he is Hilda half the time.”

  “A split personality?”

  “Sort of. But I think he started out that way as some sort of disguise. No one ever heard them talk to each other for the first year or so.”

  “Does anyone else in town know?”

  “Everyone in town knows, except you.”

  “But why didn’t anyone say anything?” I asked, embarrassed.

  “There was nothing to say. To us, they are Frank and Hilda, two people just like anyone else in Cordoba. The way they do things, and why they do them, is their business, not ours, the same way nobody questions the way I run my boardinghouse or Phil runs his store.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” I laughed. “This is quite a town.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

  The front door opened and in walked Sam and Skipper, followed by Pard. Sam had her ever-present bag of peanuts, and Skipper was eating from a box of Dots, although by the way his jaw was working, you could tell that most of the candy never reached his stomach but was glued to various molars, incisors, and canines. Speaking of canines, Pard looked around for a minute, saw Felicity, and ran up for a pet.