Decorated to Death

by Peg

Switching channels, I stopped when I hit our local channel. Hilly Murrow was about to come on with what the voice-over called a special report. Assuming it would be about what had happened the day before out on Old Railway Road, I sat back and waited.

  Alas, the entire report, except for a blurb about “a suspicious barn fire out in the boondocks,” centered on the Dona Deville funeral service, the luncheon, and the people in attendance. I was singled out by our ace reporter for wearing, as she put it, “an inappropriate, skimpy T-shirt, play shoes, and a see-through cocktail skirt.” When she was commenting on my outfit, the expression on her pinched face reflected her obvious disapproval.

  “Yo, Miss Manners,” I hissed at the image on the TV screen, “I’m an interior designer, not Coco Chanel. And for your information, I was wearing a cotton half-slip.”

  Disgusted, I switched to HGTV and watched as a talented interior designer transformed a small, narrow, outdated bathroom into a large, updated, and functional master bath.

  By knocking out the wall between an unused hall closet and the bathroom’s linen closet, needed footage was added to the width of the room. Newly installed can lights and a skylight illuminated the entire space and rid it of its previous cavelike atmosphere.

  Since the homeowners preferred showering rather than bathing, the tub and shower unit was removed and replaced with a large walk-in shower. The new shower area was tiled from floor to ceiling in large, chocolate-brown ceramic tiles and trimmed midway around in small, multicolored accent tiles.

  Double sinks with brushed chrome fixtures were installed along with new hickory wood cabinets. The granite countertop that the homeowners, with help from the designer, had selected was basically a sandy color with streaks of cream, green, and chocolate brown. Over the sinks were twin mirrors with narrow forest-green frames.

  Because the husband was a very tall man, the designer raised the height of the counter, something that the man greatly appreciated. The happy homeowners were oohing and aahing over their new master bath when Rollie Stevens walked into my hospital room. The way my luck was running, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d come to arrest me for not wearing black to Dona Deville’s funeral.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Hastings. Mind if I sit down?” he asked as he pulled the bedside chair away from the head of the bed and moved it toward the foot.

  “Be my guest,” I answered with a smile. Uncertain why he’d dropped in on me, I kept quiet and waited for him to continue speaking.

  “I know it’s your line of business and all, but I would appreciate it if you’d shut off that decorator program or at least turn it down. This darn new hearing aid picks up everything. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d take it out and pretend I lost it.”

  I knew he was going somewhere with his remarks. With patience, I figured I’d eventually find out exactly where. In the meantime, I used the remote and turned off the TV.

  “But you know my Martha, she’d probably run right out and buy me a new one. She got this thing about helping me. ’Course I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, right, Jean? I’ll call you Jean and you can call me Rollie, okay?”

  “No problem, Rollie. How is Martha? I haven’t talked to her lately, or Charlie either for that matter. According to what young Dr. Parker tells me, she’s doing a great job getting Charlie up and moving.”

  “Yeah, she’s a heck of a therapist,” said Rollie, shifting his stocky body in the too-small, uncomfortable chair. The police chief looked so ill at ease, I decided to end his misery by cutting to the chase.

  “Okay, Chief,” I said, addressing him by his official title, which was a signal that I wasn’t buying his friendly banter and wanted to get to why he’d stopped by to see me. “How much do you know and how did you figure it out?”

  “Let’s just say that after being married over fifty years to the same woman, there’s not much I don’t know about Martha and she don’t know about me,” said the police chief, looking as though the weight of the world had just been removed from his shoulders.

  “When I started complaining about all hours she was spending with your husband, she clammed up and let me rant and rave. That’s not normal for someone who’s as feisty as Martha. Did you know she even stood up to that Castro fella? In public, no less. He tried to get her to back down but she wouldn’t do it. Instead, she went to his brother and got him to sneak her out of the country. Now that’s what I call feisty. Of course the brother denied the whole thing.”

  In an effort to keep Rollie Stevens on track, I asked him how he got Martha to tell him the whole story. So far, neither one of us had used the word “deal,” but I knew the conversation was leading up to it.

  “I’m embarrassed to say this, him being your husband and all, but when I couldn’t get anything out of Martha I felt something wasn’t right,” said Rollie, “so I stopped by to see Charlie. He’s a heck of a guy, but I guess you know that already.”

  I nodded my head, smiled broadly, and waited for Rollie Stevens to continue.

  “We had a good long talk about this that and the next thing, you know, stuff I don’t think I have to explain, but at any rate when we got to talking about the Dona Deville murder, Charlie yells ‘Bingo’ so loud, the head nurse come in and gave us both a lecture. He figured out the whole thing for me. I went home and never said a word to Martha. It would’ve ruined everything because everything she did was for me.”

  I waited while the police chief removed a neatly folded, clean, white handkerchief from the inside pocket of his uniform jacket and wiped the tears that threatened to run down his gingerbread-colored cheeks.

  “Darn allergies,” he said, clearing his throat and pulling a small tape recorder from the right-hand pocket of his jacket. “Now, what have you got for me?”

  An hour later, and after giving him my word of honor that I would never tell Martha that the secret deal I’d made with her wasn’t a secret to Rollie or Charlie, the police chief kissed me on my cheek (that really suprised me) and said good-bye.

  Maybe because I had given him a tape recorder full of information, he felt I deserved some information in return. I don’t know that for sure, but for whatever reason, before he took his leave, he explained that the hush-hush investigation Matt had been conducting tied in with the whole Deville/Wilson business. While I was busy with the Deville investigation, Matt and Sid Rosen, with the police chief’s knowledge and blessing, were hot on the trail of the meth lab and its connection to the rash of buglaries and car break-ins that Seville had been experiencing. The robberies and break-ins were being done by Abner’s young customers who needed money to fund their drug habit. They took most of what they stole to a fence in Springvale.

  I was delighted that Rollie Stevens decided to share the information with me because after I had time to think about all that had happened the day before, it had puzzled me that it was my son-in-law, Matt, who had been on hand to greet me at the railroad station. Until Rollie Stevens explained how Matt’s investigation dovetailed with mine, I hadn’t realized the two investigations were even remotely connected.

  After Rollie had departed, I was seriously thinking of making a run to the third floor to see Charlie, but I didn’t think I’d be able to get away with running around the halls of the hospital dressed in a skimpy hospital gown. With my luck I’d run into Hilly Murrow and be publicly taken to task for running around in an obscene nightgown. My problem of how to get to Charlie’s room and what to wear was solved when my husband came walking, or rather hobbling, through the door.

  “Hi, sweetheart. Want some company?” he said, sitting himself down in the little chair that Rollie Stevens had so recently vacated.

  “You better believe it, especially if it’s you,” I replied, hopping out of bed and giving Charlie a kiss and hug. “Good lord, Charlie, we’ve been like two ships passing in the night,” I said as I plopped down on the edge of the bed. “I like your robe and pajamas. Are they new?”

  “Yeah, JR surprised me with
them yesterday afternoon, but we can talk about that later. What we need to talk about right now is what landed you in the hospital. And before you begin with your explanation, I think I should warn you that I’ve already talked to Matt.”

  While Charlie wasn’t exactly his old jolly self, at least he seemed to be reasonably calm.

  “Jeez, I almost don’t know how or where to begin,” I said, knowing I had to proceed with the utmost caution. My amateur sleuthing has been a thorn in Charlie’s side from day one. If I wasn’t careful, the all too familiar lecture about me sticking my nose into other people’s business, especially police business, could reach a new level.

  “I suggest that you start at the beginning with you and Mary discovering Dona Deville’s body and ending with you, Mary, and my new roommate hopping the underground express to the old railroad station,” Charlie instructed, “and don’t leave anything out, including why you made that deal with Martha Stevens.”

  Trapped and with nowhere to go, I did as I was told. When I got to the part about being tied up in the burning barn, I tried to put a positive spin on the incident, which was virtually impossible.

  “…and then I woke up and read your note. It was as clever as it was sweet,” I said, flashing what I hoped was a winning smile and steeling myself for Charlie’s lecture.

  Like a prosecuting attorney delivering the closing arguement in a slam-dunk case, Charlie hit on all the mistakes I’d made and the dire consequences that followed, such as not going to the police and ending up in a burning barn. He also reminded me that if he didn’t love me so much, he wouldn’t care that I had developed “a taste for solving deadly puzzles.”

  I was saved from giving Charlie my word that I would give up sleuthing by the appearance of Martha Stevens, who was there to escort Charlie back to his room via the wheelchair she’d brought along. She flashed me the okay sign for keeping my part of our deal as she settled Charlie in the chair and wheeled him out of the room.

  Later that evening, the nursing staff arranged for me and Charlie to have a candlelight dinner in my room. All was forgiven, and like my investigation, it ended on a positive note.

  Chapter

  thirty-three

  The next morning, I called JR. Even though it was seven o’clock, I knew that she would be up and dressed.

  “Hi, Mom, I figured I’d be hearing from you this morning. How was your dinner last night?”

  “Jeez, I know news travels fast in this town but I never thought it traveled quite that fast. How did you find out about it. Was it in Hilly Murrow’s column in today’s paper?” I was being sarcastic. Either JR didn’t realize that or she chose to ignore my behavior.

  “No, as a matter of fact, last night we got a sitter for the kids and Matt took me out to dinner at Milano’s. We ran into Peter and Ellie. Your little date with Pops was their idea and the nurses helped them to pull it off,” giggled JR. “Ellie wanted to include some dance music but Peter nixed that. He didn’t think that was a very good idea with Pops’s cast and all. Not to change the subject, but what’s on your mind besides me bringing you some clean clothes when I pick you up later this morning? Peter said you’d be released probably somewhere around ten.”

  “A couple of things, starting with your phone call to me when I was fighting for my life in a burning barn, and what happened to my van? It has my purse in it. I also want to know how Pesty managed to survive without both me and your father.”

  “That’s more than a couple of things,” JR said before informing me that because of my keeping her on the phone, she’d pushed the wrong button on the microwave oven and instead of keeping Matt’s breakfast warm, “the microwave burnt it up. We can talk after I get you home. Love ya, bye.”

  Three long hours later, I was in JR’s pickup truck and on my way home. Kettle Cottage never looked so good.

  Before collecting me at the hospital, JR had brought Pesty back from her house and given the pampered little Kees fresh water and breakfast. When Pesty saw me come through the back door and into the kitchen, she ran to greet me with enthusiasm generally saved for French fries and cheese sticks.

  With the exception of Charlie not being home, things seemed pretty normal. Thanks to Matt, my car keys and purse were on the counter and the van was parked in the driveway.

  Over a plate of Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookies and glasses of milk, JR told me all about her connection with the underground tunnel that saved my life and the lives of Mary and Vincent Salerno.

  “Remember last Monday when you had me and Aunt Mary over to discuss your investigation,” said JR, who continued as I nodded my head, “and we ended up talking about the twins going on the field trip to the railroad station and I mentioned that as a kid I took the exact same trip?”

  “Yes, I do,” I said, “the one I missed because of Herbie Waddlemeyer’s big, fat head.”

  “Mother, please, let’s not go into that again. You’re beginning to sound like Grandma Kelly. Pretty soon you’ll be telling me how tough you had it during the Depression.”

  “JR, for your information I wasn’t even born until after the Great Depression was long over, and since moving to California after Grandpa died, your grandmother seems to have forgotten all about it. Now all she talks about is whale watching, saving the sharks, and surfing. Did I tell you how she wants to be pushed out to sea on her boogie board when she dies? She’s got the whole thing planned…”

  “As I was saying,” said JR, rolling her eyes and running over my last sentence, “Sally Birdwell was our guide and because of her, I developed an interest in Overbeck pottery. It bugged me because I couldn’t remember why, but in my mind the pottery had some connection or other with Dona Deville’s property, which in turn was connected to her murder. You know what I’m saying?”

  I nodded my head and once again thought about the nursery rhyme with all the connections.

  “Remember I said to you a couple of times that if I thought of anything, even if it seemed trivial, I would let you know? Well, when Matt felt so bad about me having to be both mom and dad to the twins ’cause he was so tied up with his investigation, he surprised me with another Overbeck figurine to add to my collection.”

  “What does that have to do with the tunnel? You are going to explain the connection, aren’t you?” I said, wishing I could light up a cigarette. Because of JR’s pregnancy and since we were sitting inside and not outside, I decided to curtail my smoking for the time being.

  “I’m getting to it, and I’d get there faster if you’d stop interrupting me,” replied JR as she helped herself to the last cookie on the plate.

  “My new little figurine is a depiction of one of the many slaves that traveled the Underground Railroad provided by the abolitionists in the days before and during the Civil War. Sally not only told us all about the railroad, she also showed us a portion of it when she opened the hidden door beneath the racks once used to store things in the baggage room.

  “At the time, most of the kids were bored or disappointed when they found out that there wasn’t an actual set of tracks or a train in the tunnel. They were even more disappointed when Sally told them that they couldn’t check out the other end of the tunnel that was hidden in the horse stall because the barn was on private property.”

  “You know,” I said, “I’ve read about the Underground Railroad but I never knew that there was one in this area. And to think it saved me just like it saved the lives of people whose only crime was that they wanted to be free and treated like human beings and not property.”

  “When I held the new little figurine in my hand,” said JR, looking close to tears, “I thought of all the slaves that didn’t make it. I really don’t quite understand it myself, but all of a sudden I had this terrible urge to tell you about the tunnel. It was so compelling that I left you three messages on your regular phone.”

  “I was at the funeral and luncheon. When I stopped by the house after the funeral to check on Pesty, I never thought to check for messages.�
��

  “I was afraid of that, and like I said, it was so weird how I couldn’t shake the feeling it was imperative that I tell you about the tunnel that day. So I kept calling you and calling you on your cell phone. When Aunt Mary finally answered it, I was more than a bit irritated with you. I had no idea where you were or what was happening.”

  “And with all that was happening, I forgot that Mary had my cell phone in her pocket, and she didn’t remember it either until the wad of Kleenex she had in her pocket shifted when she all but collapsed on the floor of the horse stall. That’s when she felt the phone vibrating.”

  JR went to the pantry and helped herself to the last of the cookies. “What?” she said as she caught me smiling at her. “After all, I am eating for two.”

  Reaching into the box of diet doggy treats, she gave one to Pesty, who’d dashed over to the pantry in hopes of getting a cookie, not a dog treat. Giving JR a look of disgust, she dropped the treat from her mouth and retreated to her spot under the kitchen table.

  Clutching the little stack of cookies to her chest, JR was about to sit down again when she mentioned that while she and Ellie were talking at Milano’s, the subject of the old cottage came up.

  “She asked me if Designer Jeans would be interested in taking on the job of redoing the cottage. Of course, I said yes. And get this, Mom, she says she’s leaving everything, even the budget, up to us.”

  Leaping out of my chair, I embraced JR in a bear hug, showering Pesty, who’d peeked out from beneath the table to see what all the excitement was about, with cookie crumbs.

  “Mother, you just broke my cookies!” JR said, sounding like a little girl again.

  “And you, my darling daughter,” I replied, sounding like a very happy interior designer, “just made my day!”

  Ellie told JR that she felt both her mother and her aunt had lost their lives attempting to turn the cottage into a useful, comfy abode.

  “Ellie and Peter want to redo the cottage as a tribute to Aunt Jenny and Dona,” said JR.