Miss Pettybone's First Case

by Melissa Rees

  "So, how are you feeling?" He asked.

  "Better."

  "Good, that's good. Now maybe I can get some answers."

  "Where's Lynn?"

  "She went home to shower. I volunteered to stay."

  "That was kind of you."

  "Oh, I have an ulterior motive."

  "I don't doubt that."

  "Do you need anything before we start?"

  "I would really like a Diet Pepsi."

  All right, I’ll see what I can do." Getting up, he walked out the door.

  She realized she would have some explaining to do when he got back. She needed to think of something convincing to tell Dwight. Concentrating, she stared out the window. She had seen a movie once about someone being conked on the head. A woman she thought. And the woman developed amnesia.

  She wondered if she could get that. Or at least pretend she had that. It wasn't as if anyone could see inside her head. Deep in thought, she sank back on the bed.

  When Dwight walked back in carrying a Diet Pepsi, she was ready.

  After she took a swallow of her soda, she looked over at Dwight. "It’s warm."

  He rolled his eyes and sat back down on the chair. "Are you ready?"

  She nodded and leaned back against the bed.

  "Why would you go back out there after I specifically told you not to?"

  "I thought I dropped my watch out there so when I finished my route, I stopped out there to look around."

  "And did you find it?"

  "Yes, I did." She said, nodding towards the hospital table that sat alongside of her bed. The watch lay in plain sight.

  "And then what?"

  "I heard a sound coming from the house, so I walked over to look in."

  "Did you see anyone?"

  "No."

  "Then what happened?"

  "I was looking into the window and I heard a noise behind me. Before I could turn around, I felt someone hit me on the head."

  "And?"

  "That's it. The next thing I remember is waking up here."

  Dwight narrowed his eyes in concentration and stared at Miss Pettybone.

  "And that's all you remember?"

  "That's all I remember."

  "And that's your story?"

  "That's the only one I have."

  "You do realize you could have died?"

  "Sheriff, I'm the one with the huge bump on my head."

  Disgusted, Dwight tried staring her down. Unsuccessful, he shifted his gaze out the window.

  "Miss Pettybone. I want you to promise me that you'll stay away from that house."

  "I can't promise that, Sheriff. That house is on my route."

  "That house is empty. There is no reason in the world for you to be out there."

  "It’s empty now. It won't be empty forever."

  "Okay, then promise me that you'll stay away from it until the murder is solved."

  "What if the murder is never solved? I would eventually end up breaking my promise. I'm sorry Sheriff, I just can't, in good conscience, promise that."

  Aggravated, Dwight stood up and walked to the door.

  "If I find out that you went back out there nosing around, I swear to you, for your own good, I’ll arrest you. You are too old to be involved with a murder."

  “I’m too old!"

  "Yes, Miss Pettybone, whether you want to admit it or not, you're just not as young as you used to be."

  "So you think I should just resign myself to baking cookies and wearing a shawl in hundred-degree weather."

  "I don't think you should bake cookies. You never bake them long enough. They always taste like dough. The shawl sounds like a good enough idea though."

  Dwight laughed at her furious face, and then turned to walk out the door.

  Spinning around, he pointed a finger at her.

  "I mean it, stay away from that house."

  Chapter 15

  Miss Pettybone was in the process of putting her clothes on when Lynn walked into the hospital room.

  "Loraine, what on earth do you think you're doing?"

  “I’m going home. I can't even get a decent cold Diet Pepsi in here."

  "Well, you aren't leaving until the doctor says so."

  “I’m leaving and there's not a darn thing anyone can do about it."

  Lynn sat down in the chair beside the bed and crossed her legs, as she watched her friend hop on one leg trying to get her uniform bottoms on.

  "There is, you know."

  "There is what?"

  "Something I can do."

  Miss Pettybone paused and stared at her friend. "What can you do?"

  "I can deny the insurance claim for the hospital bill."

  "You wouldn't do that." Miss Pettybone said, convinced Lynn would never do that to her.

  "I might if you don't get back in that bed and wait for the doctor to release you."

  "That could cost me thousands of dollars." Miss Pettybone snapped.

  "That's right." Lynn agreed mildly.

  Frustrated, she stepped out of her pants and walked stiffly back to bed.

  "I know you're mad but if it keeps you from damaging yourself any more that you already have, then I willing to do what it takes."

  Lynn met her friend's furious eyes and chuckled. "What set you on fire anyway?"

  Miss Pettybone snorted when she remembered what Dwight had said. "That darn Dwight threatened to arrest me if I went back out to the house."

  "Dwight?" Lynn asked, raising her eyebrow at her friend. When she realized that Loraine had used his first name unconsciously, she grinned. "Did he really?"

  "Yes, he really did."

  "So, just don't go back out there and you have nothing to worry about."

  Miss Pettybone pulled her knees up to her chest, and then leaned her face onto her knees. "He called me old."

  "Dwight called you old?"

  "Yep."

  "I’m the same age you are."

  "Yeah?"

  "Dwight called us old?"

  Miss Pettybone smiled into her knees while she waited for Lynn to digest that information.

  Lynn lifted an elegant hand and pushed her light blonde hair behind her ears. Her smooth tan face darkened to a bright red.

  "There is no reason in the world why he should ever call a woman old."

  "Well, he did. I think he thought he was being funny. He had that insincere grin on, the way he does when he think he’s being amusing."

  "All right, I’ll see about getting you out of here. But you have to follow the doctor's orders. I mean it, Loraine. You have to take care of yourself."

  ***

  The moment Miss Pettybone walked into her house; she heaved a huge sigh of relief. She couldn't remember the last time she was so happy to be home.

  The three days in the hospital had been an ordeal. Thank God, Lynn had wasted little time in getting her released. Lynn could be very bossy when she wanted to be.

  Miss Pettybone headed for the refrigerator and grabbed a cold can of Diet Pepsi. Popping the tab, she took a long swallow, and then sighed. She felt totally exhausted. How anyone could get any rest in a hospital was a mystery to her. She glanced down at her uniform and frowned. The uniform had blood and dirt all over the top portion of her shirt and shorts. She would take a long hot bath. Walking upstairs, she shed the shirt and shorts and threw them in the laundry basket.

  Lynn had tried to get her to wait while she ran to her house for clean clothes but Miss Pettybone wasn't having it. She was heartily sick of the hospital.

  She walked into the bathroom and turned the faucet on, letting the claw-foot tub fill up, then sprinkled some bath salts in the water and sighed when she smelled the fresh aroma drifting up to her. She was going to soak for a week.

  She climbed into the hot soapy water and leaned against the curved back of the tub. The hot water felt wonderful. Relishing the peace and quiet of her home, she thought about her attacker.

  The person who hit her in the head would h
ave to be the same man who murdered Warren Jones. He had come back for a reason and whatever he was looking for must have been important. Something worth killing for. But what?

  The sharp ringing of the telephone broke harshly into her thoughts. Sinking down into the water, she willed the phone silent. The phone went silent ten seconds, only to begin ringing again.

  Frustrated, Miss Pettybone climbed out of the tub and grabbed her robe. Trailing wet footprints, she picked up the phone.

  "Hello."

  "Loraine, is that you?"

  "Who else would be answering my phone, Billie June?"

  "When you didn't answer the phone I got worried."

  "Billie June, I am taking the first hot bath I've had in three days."

  “I’m sorry Loraine, but I mean, someone tried to murder you and there you are in that big old house all by yourself."

  "I appreciate your concern, I do. But I'm fine."

  "How are you really feeling? You took quite a whack on the head. I was thinking maybe I should come and stay with you until you feel better."

  Alarmed, Miss Pettybone thought about Billie June's fussing over her. She would not put it past Billie June to confiscate her Diet Pepsi supply. "Noooo, really I'm fine. Your husband and boys would be lost without you. You know how Teddy gets when we just go to the Casino overnight."

  "I know he’s such a big baby." Billie June agreed thinking getting away from him and the boys wouldn't be a bad idea. "But he wasn't attacked and left to die!"

  "Really, Billie June, you aren't making me feel any better. I would just as soon not talk about that day."

  "Well, maybe I should just come and sit with you this afternoon after work. I could bring you some chicken noodle soup."

  "You know, that would be nice, except that I'm going to take a nap as soon as I finish my bath."

  "Are you sure? Because I don't mind at all keeping you company while you recover from that awful bash on the head."

  “I’m positive. I'm worn out from the hospital. I’ll call you when I wake up."

  "You promise?"

  "I promise." She held out the phone, staring at it. She considered leaving it off the hook but then decided against it. She would rather talk on the phone then have someone show up at her house. Hanging up the phone, she walked into the bathroom and climbed back into the tub.

  She sighed, and then leaned back. Yawning, she forced her tired muscles to relax. Almost asleep, she became vaguely aware of the doorbell ringing.

  Frowning, she pictured Billie June standing at her door, holding a bowl of her God awful chicken soup. Determined to ignore it, she sank lower into the water.

  She sat straight up when they started pounding. Oh My God, I am going to kill Billie June if that is her, she promised herself.

  Furious, she crawled back out of the bathtub. Pulling on her already damp robe, she headed downstairs. Opening the door, she had her mouth open to yell when she saw Mildred Bartlett on her porch. "Mildred, what are you doing here?"

  "Loraine, I'm sorry. I got worried when you didn't answer the door. I mean I knew you were home because I ran into Lynn at the store."

  Sighing and mentally dismissing her bath, Miss Pettybone swung the door open wide. "Come on in out of the heat. I was just taking a bath."

  “I’m sorry and I would have waited a couple of days to come but I have to talk to you."

  "Well, let me put some clothes on. You make yourself at home and I’ll be right down." She promised, heading for the stairs. She walked back up the stairs wondering what Mildred needed to talk to her about. She had known the woman for thirty years and couldn't ever remember a time when she needed to talk. She dried off, and then pulled a pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt on. She hiked back downstairs as fast as her tired bones allowed.

  Mildred was sitting in her mama's old Bentwood rocker. The rocker had sat in front of the window in the parlor for years. The afternoon sun was shinning on top of Mildred's red hair, making it glow against the faded fabric of the seat.

  "This is a real nice house, Loraine."

  "You have a nice home too."

  "Yeah, I do, but it's new. This house feels lived in."

  "This house has been lived in for a hundred years. However, I know you didn't come out here to admire my house. So, what's on your mind?"

  "I think I saw the men who attacked you." Miss Pettybone raised her eyebrow and stared at the red headed woman. Motioning her to follow, she walked into the kitchen. Grabbing a soda, she held it up for Mildred to see. Mildred nodded her head and Miss Pettybone grabbed another Diet Pepsi.

  "Come sit down and tell me everything."

  They seated themselves at the old farm table. Miss Pettybone popped the tab on her can of soda and gazed expectantly at Mildred.

  When she noticed Mildred hadn't touched her soda, she jerked up. "My gosh, Mildred, I'm sorry. Would you like a glass?" Miss Pettybone asked, appalled at her manners.

  "No, this is fine." Mildred assured her and pulled the tab. Then she began, the words pouring out. "About a week ago, Louise and I went over to that small restaurant over by Benton. You know the one that has the Best Fried Chicken” sign on the by-pass."

  Miss Pettybone nodded and took a long drink of soda, then settled back in her chair.

  “Well, we had just gotten our food. I ordered the chicken and Louise got the meatloaf. Anyway, we just started eating when these two men wearing suits walked in. I nodded to Louise to look and she said she thought they looked like FBI or something." Pausing, she took a deep breath. "They ordered some food, but the weird thing about it was, they didn't talk to each other, I mean not at all. So after I finished eating I walked to the bathroom, but I took the long way so I could pass them and they weren't FBI, that's for sure."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because unless I am mistaken and I am never make mistakes about fabrics. Their suits were made of cashmere. I don't think the FBI wear cashmere suits."

  "Maybe they were just rich business men."

  "Well, that's what I thought, so I stopped to speak to them when I came out of the bathroom, just being friendly and they hardly said a word to me until they found out I was from Beatty."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, so they start acting like they were interested in buying a house in Beatty, wanting to know if they were any for sale. I told them that there are a few houses for sale and then they asked about what kind of people live in Beatty."

  "What did you tell them?"

  "I lied, told them we were Christian God-fearing people. After all, neither one of them had a wedding ring on."

  Miss Pettybone smiled and took another drink of her soda while she waited for Mildred to continue.

  "Anyway, they got around to asking me if there were any strangers in town. So I told them not really. I told them about Warren Jones moving into Zeb's rental house but that had been at least four months ago."

  Mildred paused for a drink, and then continued. "Then they started asking about what Warren looked like. As if they knew him but wanted to make sure it was the same man. They asked where he was staying. Where Zeb's house was located, that kind of thing. I didn't see the harm in telling them, so I did. I told them where the house was."

  Mildred swallowed hard and pushed the soda away. "And I think it was my fault that he got murdered."

  "Did you ever see them around town after that?"

  "No, but I saw them hauling ass out of Zeb's place the day you were attacked. They almost hit me coming out of his driveway. When I heard about you, well, I put two and two together. "

  "You sure it was them?"

  "Same truck."

  "How do you know they were driving a truck?"

  "You know how I always park my Caddy away from those damn farmers. They shove their doors open and don't care what their doors hits. Well, anyway, I parked my Caddy in the back parking lot beside the restaurant and when we left there was this big black Dodge truck with an extended cab parked next to my
car."

  "So, it was the same truck you saw on the day I was attacked?"

  "Yep, I'd swear to it."

  “You don't happen to remember what the license number was, do you?"

  "No, but I do know it had a New York plates."

  "This is interesting news, Mildred. Did you tell the sheriff about the truck?"

  "No, I thought I would see what you had to say. You think I should go tell him?"

  Tempted to say no, Miss Pettybone sighed. She was determined to find the murderer over Dwight but it would have to be a fair fight.

  "Yes, I think you should tell him right away."

  Chapter 16

  They were home, finally. Pulling the truck into the garage, Aaron reached over and patted Otis on the shoulder before pushing the door open and stepping out. They paused on the sidewalk to admire their two stories Victorian. Warren pointed out that the yard needed mowing and the rose bushes needed deadheading. Otis mentioned that the flowerbeds needed weeding.

  They unlocked the back door, stepped into their elegant custom kitchen and heaved a sigh of relief simultaneously.

  They were back. Back to their beautiful home, back to the Home Show, back to sanity, Otis thought.

  He smiled for the first time since they left, more than four days before and walked to the telephone. Pushing the button, they listened to various messages. Some personal, some business.

  When Eli Rawls voice came over the speaker, they both turned to listen to the message.

  "Hello, this is Eli Rawls. We met in my club a few weeks ago. I am looking for an appraisal of my household contents at my plantation, Shadowleaf. If either of you are interested, please stop by my club, Roosters, anytime after six on the weekends. Thank you. I will be looking forward to talking with you.

  Wagner winked and smiled at Otis. "Shadowleaf Plantation. That place is a goldmine of antiques."

  "I heard he has Chippendale’s, Carvers and some valuable oil paintings." Otis said, his hopes rising.

  "See, I told you, we are at the height of our careers. It would be foolish to jeopardize our careers over some bum."

  "To be fair, Aaron, Warren wasn't a bum. I mean he worked for a living."

  "He was a bum." Wagner snapped, his temper rising at Otis's defense of Warren Jones.