She got in her cart and rolled it up right next to Martha White. Martha was a truly beautiful old gal from Tampa who bought a house in the retirement village when her husband passed away last year. She spent a few summers playing Cinderella at the Disney castle in Orlando when she was in college, and still fancied herself a princess.
Her golf cart was a persimmon orange pumpkin, professionally designed and built to be an exact replica of Cinderella’s carriage. She didn’t just add Styrofoam attachments to make it look like a pumpkin; rather, she had the entire body custom built at her nephew’s sheet metal shop and welded to the golf cart chassis. It was painted with a sparkly metal-fleck enamel paint at an auto shop and detailed by a real Disney artist she had met back in her days at the theme park. He even sculpted and painted two of the mice, Jaq and Gus, and a few bluebirds for good measure. It really was quite an eye-catcher, if not a bit ostentatious.
Harvey pulled up in his cart, taking the last front row spot next to Essie. The dorsal shark fin on top was freshly painted and gleaming in the sun. “I hope old Sharkie here doesn’t throw too much mud on you, Essie.” He let out a small chuckle. “This machine is all tuned up and ready to run over anybody that gets in my way.”
“We won’t have to worry about the mud, Harvey, since Hildie and I will be in front of you. I doubt if that old contraption of yours will even finish the race anyway. Especially after rolling back and forth over Carl Jefferies.”
Harvey grimaced and petted the steering wheel. “Poor girl will never get over the terrible treatment of that night.”
Essie rolled her eyes.
The trash talking was in high gear as the late-comers rolled in and lined up behind the others. Albert Baumgardner had been recruited as the head official. He and five others were on Al’s bicycles from the rental shop, and they were wearing black and white striped referee shirts.
Carmen, Moira, and Hildie filed out the front door of the coffee shop, each carrying a box of four smoothie-filled air pots as Al barked out the rules and the route. Jules took Hildie’s box, and I sent Auntie to the golf cart with Essie for the steeplechase. The three ladies went across the street and through the rental shop to Carmen’s car, and she and Moira headed for the fairgrounds a mile away. Jules came back out on a bicycle to take more pictures and talk to the drivers.
The course would take them down Sunshine Avenue, over the bridge to the Golf Course Road, across the long par 5 seventeenth fairway, through the shallow water hazard they had made on the way out of the golf course, through a bed of loose sand at the gravel pit, around the retirement condominiums, up Sleepy Palms Boulevard, through the fairgrounds specially-made downhill mogul run, and then once around the quarter-mile stock car track in front of the grandstand, where the cheering fans would be waiting. Our local royalty, Tomato Queen Sherry Baker, would be there ready to wave the checkered flag for the first cart across the finish line.
The rules required that if you didn’t want to drive through a hazard, you would have to drive one lap around it to avoid disqualification.
“Gentlemen, and ladies—start your motors,” Albert barked out through his hand-held megaphone. A smattering of laughter went up from the crowd gathered to see the racers off, as their electric motors remained silent when they turned their keys. Jerry Thatcher came running in at the last minute from his post at the silent auction and jumped in his rubber chicken cart with Junie.
Eli walked up, in uniform today to help keep the peace, and waved to his dad to let him know he was there to support him. Harvey pumped his fist a couple of times in response, and then pulled his aviator goggles down over his eyes. He had recruited Trevor Barton to ride with him. I guess he figured he could give him a push if he got stuck in any hazards.
Essie had her game face on and was too focused to see me wave in support, but Hildie returned the wave and gave me a “V” for victory. Albert had the crowd count down from ten, and then he blew his whistle to start the race.
“And they’re off, like a herd of turtles,” Eli said with a grin.
Harvey pulled out like a jackrabbit to take the early lead with the others staying in formation as they drove past the shop and headed for the bridge. Albert led the group, and the other officials spread out along side and behind the group to make sure everyone played fair. Their bikes easily kept up with the 10 to 15 mph speeds of the golf carts.
“Come on,” Eli said to me. I’ll drop you off at the fairgrounds.”
“See you at the end of the line,” Jules said with a wave as she trailed behind the group on the bicycle.
Chapter Twelve
“What are you doing in town on the weekend, Tony?” Tony Georgetti strolled up to the smoothie stand and ordered a caramel mocha frappe on his way to the grandstand.
“Always busy,” he said with his charming smile. “Some new installs in Sabina have been keeping me moving. But it’s okay. It helps the pocketbook, you know.”
“Well, enjoy the big steeplechase finale,” I said, looking at my watch. “They should be coming through in another 20 minutes, and in the meantime you’ll be entertained by the high school dance team and the vocal styling’s of the Tomato Queen herself.”
“Big time entertainment,” he said with a blushing grin and headed to the grandstand.
“How are we doing?” I asked Moira.
“No time to talk!” she said, filling up another cup.
Business was brisk, and the time flew by. Before I knew it, it was 1:30 and we were almost out of smoothies.
“Here they come!” someone hollered from a nearby concession stand. “It looks like there’s a big chicken heading right at us!”
The gate was open and ready for the influx of golf carts to roll onto the track, but instead of going for his victory lap, Jerry Thatcher pulled up to our smoothie stand and ordered two raspberry smoothies for himself and his granddaughter.
“Where’s everybody else, Jerry?” I asked him, a little shocked to see just one cart coming toward us.
“Well, let’s see,” he began. “Old Harvey got stuck in the mud at the very first water hazard by the golf course, and by the time he and Trevor got his shark machine out of there they couldn’t get it to run again. Got quite a few stuck in the sand trap, and then a lot of them decided to drive around the moguls but they couldn’t get back up the hill to make the lap.”
“How about Essie and Hildie?” I asked, a little concerned at this point.
“Well, they were taking it real slow down the hill when I flew by, so I better get going before they come and pass me up! See ya!”
He handed me a ten-dollar bill for the two drinks and headed onto the track, where the crowd stood and gave him a big round of applause. It wasn’t long before my aunties came by. Essie had kind of a sour look, and the cart was covered with mud and sand, but Hildie looked like she was having a great time. They waved and rolled onto the racetrack followed by Martha White in her sparkling clean pumpkin machine. It looked like she had driven around all of the hazards, but kept up a steady pace. Several others followed after them.
Sherry Baker stood on a high platform across the track and waved the checkered flag as Jerry Thatcher crossed the finish line, then she climbed down the stairs and ran up to present him with a bouquet of flowers and a royal kiss on the cheek. Jules was there to capture it all on film – or probably in digital data, I suppose.
Albert and his team of officials biked onto the track and headed for the winner’s circle where Jerry stood with Junie and an armful of roses. He turned on the microphone, which caused a horrible squeal. Then he spoke. Essie, Hildie, and Martha were standing nearby.
“Congratulations to our winner, Jerry Thatcher!”
There was a loud and warm round of applause from the crowd.
“Do you have any words for the crowd, Jerry?”
Jerry reached out and took the microphone. Then he walked over to Martha White, took her hand, and led her back to the winner’s circle. The crowd gasped as he got down on o
ne knee.
“Martha…”
You could cut the anticipation with a knife. Martha looked extremely ill-at-ease.
“…will you go steady with me?”
The crowd laughed and clapped and whistled. Then he handed her the microphone and they all fell quickly silent, waiting for her response.
“Jerry Thatcher, you old coot,” she said, “I don’t even know if that’s your real teeth or hair, so how can I go steady with you?”
There was a groan of disappointment from the crowd, and Jerry looked down at his shoes.
“But if you’ll invite me on that trip you just won to Universal Studios, I’ll sure think about it.”
A great cheer went up, drowning out Martha’s final comment.
“Separate rooms!” she hollered into the microphone.
As the crowd dispersed, the aunts and Jules, with her bicycle, found me at the smoothie stand.
“How were sales,” Hildie asked. “Did they like the drinks?”
“You did a great job making them, Hildie. We sold 120 at five dollars each. A hundred dollars for the Children’s Hospital, a hundred for the campfire Girls, a hundred for the cost of the ingredients, a hundred for the Coffee Cabana, and…” I said handing a stack of bills to Moira, “a hundred for the best workers in the world. Thanks, Moira. You share that with your mother now.”
Carmen opened her mouth to protest, but I stopped her with a serious look and a shake of my head. “You two did a lot more work than I did and clearly deserve it. In fact, we’re going to start a new partnership deal on the morning coffee too.”
“Let’s switch to 16-ounce cups for four dollars,” Moira said. “A lot of people ask if we have a large size.”
That sounded like a pretty good idea. Her dad pulled up on his bicycle just as a text came in from Eli. He wanted Jules and me to meet him at the Sleepy Palms courtyard where people were gathering for the results of the silent auction.
Essie and Hildie went to open up the coffee shop. Eli had dropped me here, so I didn’t have a ride. It wasn’t too far, but further than I wanted to walk.
“Here,” Albert said. “Take my bike. Carmen’s got the car, so I can just ride with her.
Things have a way of working out. Jules and I biked over to the courtyard in front of the retirement village.
The ice cream social was being dismantled, and people were crowding the tables at the front to see if they had won any of the auction items.
“Just like the old days,” Eli said as we rolled in. “A pretty girl on a bicycle riding by trying to get my attention.”
“Ha!” I protested. “I was always going somewhere. It was you that practically twisted your head off gawking at me.”
“Well, you were just a little kid most of my school life, since I was a whole three years older. But then around the time I graduated you started getting a little more interesting.”
We jumped off our bikes and put down the kickstands. Eli was there with Officer Karen Crenshaw and Toe Thompson. That seemed a little odd.
I looked at the group. “So…what’s up? How was the crime business today?”
Eli had a serious but pleased look. “Three break-ins today during the festivities. Each time it was within a few houses of where Toe’s truck was parked.”
I was in shock. My eyes were wide and my mouth partly open. I looked at Toe’s wrists, but he was not in handcuffs.
All three of them had looks on their faces like the cat that just ate the canary.
Jules piped up. “So, what aren’t you guys telling us? And there must be a reason that Toe isn’t under arrest.”
“There is,” he said, and looked at Karen.
“I was driving Toe’s truck,” Karen said, “and Toe was with Eli all day.”
No wonder I hadn’t seen him around anywhere. “Well, I’m pretty sure Karen’s not our thief, so…I guess you were following a hunch?”
“I kept telling Eli that somebody was trying to frame me,” Toe said, “so we came up with an idea how we could prove it.”
“I had Karen drive Eli’s truck to a few different locations and leave it there for a about 45 minutes each time, and I took Toe with me. I was pretty sure he wasn’t a jewel thief, and Dad didn’t believe that Toe stole his iPad.”
“He’s got tinted glass on the truck,” Karen continued, “so I just sat inside and kept my eyes open. I didn’t see anything, but the alleys must have been busy, because…”
“…because each time she parked the truck, someone busted in the back door of a house across the street or down the block,” Toe added.
“And I had the other officers keep an eye on some of our other top suspects to see where they were at too. I haven’t seen those reports yet.”
“What time were the break-ins?”
“11:00, 12:15, and 1:15,” Eli said.
I looked at Jules. “Well, that eliminates our biker chick. We saw her at 12:10 when we were leaving the ice cream social.”
“I was kind of looking for your coffee machine guy too,” Eli said. “He’s been in the shop a lot and is familiar with the comings and goings of some of the people who’ve been robbed.”
“Tony? No, he’s not the burglar type. Besides, I sold him a smoothie shortly after we opened up the stand, so maybe like 10 after 1:00, and he went up into the grandstand. He had work in Sabina. Okay,” I said, still a little puzzled. “Toe didn’t do it, but why are Jules and I here?”
“I’ve got a plan,” Eli told us. “and within the next two or three days, the five of us are going to have this case solved. But I need your help.”
Chapter Thirteen
It was a dreary, overcast morning with intermittent rain showers when my doorbell rang at precisely 8:00 a.m. Jules was taking care of the morning coffee rush for me today. Essie and Hildie were at the door, dressed in black with very old pillbox hats with black veils. Without a word, I went out the door with a dozen white roses in my arm and led the way to my car. We drove to the cemetery, where I handed each of them four roses as we walked to my mother’s grave.
She was the youngest of the three sisters, and we lost her to breast cancer seven years ago at the age of 48. It was too painful, even after all these years, to speak of it, and no words could console them or help them make sense of it.
It was a simple grey tombstone. Essie placed her flowers at the base of the stone first and closed her eyes in a silent prayer. Hildie followed next. Then it was my turn. I traced her name carved in the stone with my fingers, Audrey Morrissey Parker, and laid her favorite flowers with the others.
We would visit many other times, of course, but this was the anniversary of her passing, and we always followed the same silent ritual. We never spoke of it ahead of time, but it happened like clockwork every year.
The sun was beginning to burn off the morning cloud cover, and, just minutes after we arrived, we walked back toward my car. It was okay to talk now, but not about Mom.
“We’ll take our cart back home from your house, change our clothes, get the muffins, and see you at the shop, Lily,” Essie said, with a bit of mist in her eye.
As we approached the car, I could see a man standing there. It seemed like he was waiting for us, and the form was familiar.
“Daddy!” I said, running up to give him a hug. He was in his 60s now, but he still twirled me around just as he did when I was a little girl.
“I thought I might find you here. How’s my little Tiger Lily? Essie, Hildie. Good morning to you.”
“Good to see you, Frank. Still in Denver? Still pushing drugs?”
“Yes, indeed, on both counts. I’ll be hitting the hospitals in Tampa and Orlando this week, pitching our newest line of pharmaceuticals. Well, let’s get you ladies out of the cold and damp air. I’ve got a 9 o’clock in Orlando, and I’ll meet up with you all at the coffee shop after lunch, if that works for you.” He opened the car doors and let us all in, and we said our temporary farewells.
Essie and Hildie were always very f
ond of Dad. He stayed in Sweet Home until five years ago when the ghosts finally led him to take a great opportunity in Denver. He keeps in touch and tries to stop in once or twice a year.
Jules was glad to hear that Dad was in town, but she cut her tea break short to go back next door and write up her article on the weekend festivities – plus she had a project to work on for Eli as well.
The morning was slow, with the usual suspects coming in as always. The bleak morning was keeping the kids off the streets, and the blenders hadn’t been put to use yet today – but the drive-thru sales had been extra good due to the rain and cold. By mid-morning things started to brighten up.
“Did you hear, Essie,” Toe said with a smile and more upbeat energy than he’d had in a week. “Turns out I’m not the thief behind all these burglaries.”
“Well,” she said without looking at him, “I’ll feel better when someone is actually arrested for the crimes.”
Dad was having good luck with the Orlando hospital and called to say he wouldn’t be in after lunch. Instead, he wanted to take the whole group out to dinner – me, Eli, Jules, Essie, and Hildie. I made reservations for six at Jake’s Steak and Spirits for 7 o’clock.
Dad ordered three bottles of wine and appetizers for us at the big round table in a private room. Smooth jazz music was piped in at a low conversational volume, and two perky (in more ways than one) young ladies were assigned to our table. Jake was Dad’s lifelong friend, and he always treated all of us like royalty.
I was hungry and put a few onion rings, boneless wings, cheese sticks, and stuffed mushroom caps on my side plate.
“Steak twice in one week,” I said. “I could get used to this.”
Eli gave me a look and shook his head. I’m not sure if he was more concerned about the expense or my waistline. Then he nabbed a wing and a mushroom off my plate. Message, or convenience? It doesn’t matter. I’m hungry; I’m going to eat.
After all the “long time, no see” small talk with Dad, the conversation turned to our mystery.
A Frothy Fiasco: A Cozy Mystery (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book 3) Page 8