Dumpster Dicing (Bunco Biddies Book 1)

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  Negative responses and head shakes floated around the living room.

  “I propose we help expedite matters and assist the police in discovering what we can about Edwin Newman...”

  “Who did ya say?” Betty Lou Simpson crinkled her brow.

  “Didn’t he create Mad Magazine?” Babs cocked her head.

  Ethel sighed. “No, Babs, you’re thinking of Alfred E. Neuman. The freckled cartoon character featured on the covers.”

  “Oh, I recall those. Mother never let us read them, but I sneaked them into the house. I loved the Spy vs. Spy antics.” Norma Rodgers giggled.

  Janie clapped her hands. “Ladies, please.”

  Josephine whimpered. “You think the murderer is still around?”

  Betsy Ann patted her arm. “We can’t be sure, and I am positive the police are doing all they can.”

  “Yes, but so can we. This is our community. Simply because our hair is white...”

  Betsy Ann arched an eyebrow and harrumphed.

  “Okay, most of us.” Janie rolled her eyes. “This doesn’t mean we are helpless victims. I suggest we rally our men to organize a neighborhood watch. Mildred, who lives next door to the house Mr. Newman rented, will keep vigil and inform me of any strange goings on.”

  “You never heard a thing?” Rosanne peered into Mildred’s eyes before spooning more raspberry gelatin in her mouth.

  “Well, I was so worried about poor Poopsy, my mind raced. So Monday night, I took a sleeping pill. An atom bomb could have gone off and not woken me.”

  More murmurs.

  “Who lived on the other side of him?”

  Janie lifted her finger. “His home sits on the corner lot. So nobody.”

  Several women responded with an, “Oh.”

  “What can we do?” Josephine wound a paper napkin in her fingers.

  “Trace his movements from last Wednesday. Oh, not yesterday but the week before after he signed the lease, you understand? All the way through to Tuesday morning when Betsy Ann and I discovered the body.”

  “Ya’ll did? I assumed the sanitation driver did. Oh, how horrid for you.” Babs clicked her tongue.

  The other ladies mumbled sympathies.

  Carole Jamison stood. “Of course we will all help. Tell us what we need to do.”

  Janie pressed her hands together. “Good. I took the liberty to write up some instructions. We will divvy the duties by the three Bunco tables where we are sitting. Betsy Ann will lead the first one. I, the second, and Ethel, who we all know is a murder mystery aficionado, will organize the third table.”

  Everyone located their score pads and pens, prepared for their assignments like diligent students in a prep school classroom.

  Janie scanned the room, a determined smile on her lips. “Ladies. Let’s begin. Operation Bunco Biddies commences now.”

  Chapter Nine

  Betsy Ann’s team received the assignment of canvassing the neighboring stores and businesses, both inside Sunset Acres and along the highway, in particular the Get ’em and Go where witnesses reported seeing him. Ethel’s group took to organizing the hubby-led neighborhood watch, and knocked on every door within two blocks around Newman’s house to find out if anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary. With fading memories of what people ate for breakfast so prevalent in a retirement community, time remained their largest determent. Janie headed the group in charge of researching the computer and county records for any information on both Edwin Lewis Newman and Edward Norman.

  * * *

  After every one left, Jane was surprised at how easily she pulled up records from the Houston obituaries. She once again marveled at the endless realm of cyberspace technology. Alas, her search proved unfruitful. No Edwin Newman or Norman died six years prior. She checked 2008 and 2010, just to be on the safe side. Nada. The same result in the Austin, Dallas, Fort Worth, and San Antonio newspapers.

  Frustrated, she decided to go to bed.

  In the wee hours of the morning her eyes popped open. She scooted her chair to the laptop monitor perched on her dressing table and squinted into the bright light emitting into her dark bedroom. Doing a general search, she typed in his alleged name. Within a nanosecond, several entries surfaced. Only one matched in age, but that person passed away in California in the 1990’s. Next, she tried Edward Newman, but too many articles popped up to research. Maybe with more manpower… She decided to print out the first five and review them later over her morning coffee.

  On a whim, she entered her name in the query box and nothing surfaced. With a humph, she turned off the machine and crawled back under her covers. Well, so much for her cyber footprint. If she solved this crime she would surely appear on the internet all over the place, at least for a day or two. Her Bunco Biddies wouldn’t only be the talk of the town, but the world.

  A new determination clouded her sleep the rest of the night.

  * * *

  The next morning, the three from her table rode into Austin in her sedan. Annie inched forward from the back seat. “What are we looking for again?”

  Janie eyed her in the rear view mirror as she merged onto the interstate. “We’re searching for any information on those two names I scribbled on index cards for you. The first is our neighbor’s supposed name. The second name is a convicted criminal who resembles the younger version of him. Part of a gang of robbers who hit three banks in Austin years ago, according to the articles I read last night. They may not be the same person and the name similarity a total coincidence, but it is worth a try. We have more time to research this than my poor son-in-law does.” Her lips curled into a pout.

  Her last comment rallied the troops with revived gusto as the biddies crawled through commuter traffic on the way to the newspaper archive department. Since Austin, the nearest largest city to Sunset Acres, happened to be the state capitol, they also planned to bop over to the library in the Capital Complex after a scrumptious lunch at a downtown bistro.

  * * *

  Betsy Ann’s militia met at the club house at 9:00 a.m. She and Babs rode bicycles so they could visit the convenience store, diner, and antique collectibles which dotted the farm to market road near the entrance to their retirement community.

  Roseanne and Mildred waited for the Sunset Acres shuttle to take them to the Outlet Mall, armed with a police sketch of the deceased from a newspaper clipping. Betsy Ann pulled her cycle to a halt. “I hope you have some luck. I’m not sure he did much shopping. From what Janie told me, he didn’t own much of anything at all.”

  Mildred nodded. “And no van’s arrived yet. I figured after a week...”

  Betsy Ann ran her fingernail over her lip. “I’ll tell Ethel’s group to keep an eye out as they canvas the neighborhood.” She punched in her jogging buddy’s number into her cell phone.

  “Hello.” Ethel’s gruff voice always reminded Betsy Ann of her junior high Physical Education Instructor, who’d once been a sergeant in the Air Force. She swallowed a giggle. “Ethel. Good morning. We need a favor. I’m here with Roseanne and Mildred. They’re headed to the mall then Babs and I are canvassing on bikes.”

  “Okay. Everyone at my table is gathered over coffee in my living room. Seven husbands, including Jonathan Franks, are here as well. They’re more than willing to form a neighborhood watch. Says we should have years ago.”

  “True. Perhaps poor Mr. Newman, or whoever he was, would still be alive.” Betsy Ann paused for a quick, silent prayer. “Anyway, please tell everyone to watch for a moving van, okay?”

  “Sure, I’ll tell the men to be alert to it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, Betsy Ann? Do me a favor. Tell Roseanne to get some puppy paw pads for Pugsy and I’ll pay her back. Size small.” Ethel prided herself on remembering.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Roger Wilco, over and out.” Ethel clicked off after delivering the old military walkie-talkie euphemism.

  * * *

  “Psst. Janie.” Annie slid into the w
ooden chair next to her as Janie peered into the cream and black microfiche images.

  “Yeah? You find something?” She kept her voice low out of respect for the other researchers who littered the archives, a vast majority being university students.

  “I believe so. Come check this out.”

  Janie walked over to Annie’s station to read her computer screen. In the flicker of the illuminated monitor, she scanned the same newspaper article Annie showed them earlier.

  “Yes, so. You showed us this on the back of the wedding clipping.”

  Annie whispered in a hurried tone. “I know. But because we cut out my nephew’s announcement, the rest of this article didn’t appear. See what I mean?” Her finger swiped across the screen to reveal the sentence making her breathing rate increase. She mouthed the words as they both read. “Police have yet to locate the stolen money from any of the three robberies.”

  Janie’s spine tingled. Could this be why someone diced him into pieces?

  * * *

  That evening, Janie arrived at her daughter’s house for dinner with a chocolate pecan pie she’d purchased at the bistro in her hands and a photo copy of the news article tucked inside her purse.

  “Oh, Mom. Looks delicious. What a treat.”

  “Will Blake be joining us?”

  His size twelves pounded over the hardwood floors, followed by a peck on Janie’s cheek. “Unless the phone rings again I am. Yum. Pecan pie.”

  Janie handed the desert to her daughter but clutched her handbag. “May I speak with you about the murder at Sunset Acres, Blake? It has rattled a lot of us.”

  Melody hugged her mother’s shoulders. “I have been so worried about you, but Blake states the police are sure it is an isolated incident and no one there is in any danger.”

  “Even so... Can we talk?”

  Blake’s face warmed. “Of course, Janie. Let’s go into the study while Mel and Ellie finish setting the table. Jamie is upstairs, no doubt spraining his thumbs as he texts on his cell phone.”

  They walked into the only distinctly male room in the house. Not the pure definition of a man cave, but the wood paneled walls and built-in bookcases exuded a masculine feeling along with the evergreen leather chairs cloistered in one corner and mahogany executive desk with computer credenza flanking the other wall. A deer head mounted on the wall and the frosted glass-front rifle case depicting geese in flight rounded out the effect. He perched on the edge of the desk. “What do you need to know? Without breaking protocol, I will be as forthcoming as I dare.”

  “Well,” Janie dug into her purse. “Anne Schmidt, one of the ladies I play Bunco with...”

  “Hold on. You stirred up the Bunco Biddies, too?”

  “They all live in our community, so of course it affects them. She found this on the back of an old clipping from her great nephew’s wedding in 2005. They trimmed a good portion away because of the one about the nuptials lay on the other side. So we went to the newspaper archives to retrieve the full article, you see.”

  Blake snatched it from her hands and frowned.

  “See, the resemblance is rather uncanny. And check out at the name.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Well, Janie, I am not so sure. I recall this case. The court sentenced them to twenty-five years in prison and no one reported any all point bulletins on an escape.”

  “Yes, except for Edward Norman. He got the lesser sentence because he only drove the getaway vehicle.” Her slightly arthritic finger tapped the paper. “The judge awarded him ten years with parole, which means he could have been released by now, right?”

  Blake’s right eyebrow lifted into a sharp point. “Hmmm. We’ll check into this. Thanks, Janie. You were correct to bring this to our attention. Somehow, the state data search on his likeness failed to flag it.”

  A thought splashed Janie’s septuagenarian brain like refrigerator-chilled water as she noticed the header on the newspaper copy. “Perhaps because the article is from the Tulsa, Oklahoma, newspaper?”

  Now why didn’t she pick up on that before?

  Chapter Ten

  Dinner dragged. Janie kept eyeing Blake at the head of the table. He chewed as if every morsel might hold a clue, the way one seeks the baby hidden in a king’s cake during Mardi Gras. Ellis chatted about her volleyball team’s victory which assured them a place in the finals next weekend. The band director awarded Jamie to be first chair saxophone for the end of the year concert. Yet their father’s enthusiasm waned. Had she been right about bringing him the news clipping? Would it jeopardize his chances of attending both these pivotal events in his teenage children’s lives? Yep, the Bunco gals needed to step it up and solve this thing soon.

  An hour later, Janie couldn’t stand the intensity in her son-in-law’s jaw another second. She announced she felt exhausted, dug her keys from the side pocket of her purse, and walked to her car. Her daughter followed with arms wrapped around her waist. “Will you be okay, Mom?”

  “Yes. Just need a good night’s sleep and I will be right as rain, as they say.” Janie started her engine and waved goodnight. However, as she rounded the curb, she pulled over and dug her cell phone from her bag. First, she dialed Betsy Ann, who picked up on the third ring.

  “Hi, it’s Janie. Any luck today?”

  “Well, witnesses spotted him at the Get ’em and Go, but we already knew that. In fact, they recalled him being in there twice. Once on Saturday and again on Monday afternoon. But the second time when another man entered the store, Edwin Newman seemed, hmm, how did the clerk put it?”

  Rustles of paper sounded over the receiver. She surmised Betsy Ann thumbed through her spiral tablet.

  “Ah, like hot grease on a griddle.”

  “So he appeared nervous?”

  “Yes. Apparently so. The clerk described the other man as burly and he wore a scar on his left cheek. He didn’t recognize him but didn’t think much of it until Babs asked him about it.”

  Janie restarted her car. “Thanks. I know it’s late, but can you call Ethel and meet at my condo in a half hour?”

  “Okay. Did Blake tell you something new?”

  Janie chuckled. “Not exactly. I think we are the ones who gave him something to ponder.” She put the car in gear and checked her mirror to make sure no other traffic came in either direction. “I’ll explain when I see you. Meet you in twenty minutes.”

  * * *

  The mantle clock bonged ten chimes. Ethel yawned. She tucked her shawl around her torso and rubbed her eyes. “Sorry.”

  Betsy twitched her foot as she dangled it over her knee. Her thigh, encased in her polyester purple pants, resembled a giant eggplant in motion.

  Janie paced the floor, forearms crossed in front over her torso. “Oklahoma, ladies. Not Texas.”

  Betsy Ann stopped wiggling. “Then why did the Austin papers carry the story?”

  Ethel shifted in the winged back chair. “Because that’s where the robberies occurred.”

  “And, one of the other thieves hailed from Bastrop, only a half hour east of the city. But, get this. I looked him upon the internet. The news photo shows a scar on his cheek!”

  Betsy Ann perked up. “Oh, like the man in the Get ’em and Go.”

  Janie snapped her fingers. “Correct.”

  Ethel squirmed. “I think we need to turn this all over to the police. We may be good at ferreting out clues, but there are dangerous criminals involved.”

  Janie peered at her over her readers. “We will, eventually. You say the Willises reported they heard a car backfire in the wee hours of Tuesday morning?”

  Ethel gave her head a fast nod which loosened a few tight bobby-pinned curls under her scarf. “That’s what they said and they live behind Mildred on Radiant Way. Their carport shares an alley with hers.”

  Betsy Ann sat forward. “It could have been a gunshot?”

  Janie scoffed. “Someone chopped him into pieces, Betsy Ann. Knives don’t go bang.”

  She pouted. “Maybe they
shot him first.”

  “Well, true. It makes sense to kill him first.” She gave her an apologetic smile. “But, where did they perform the butchery? Trust me, the house looked vacant but also pristine. That would be a lot of blood to clean up. And nobody reported a noise such as a chainsaw. I don’t care how many sleeping pills Mildred took. Surely she’d hear it.”

  “I read a novel where the villain used a saber from his stint in her Majesty’s service in India and butchered the girl in the bathtub.” Ethel now seemed wide awake. “I could go get it for you so you can read the scene.”

  Janie shook her head. “I seriously doubt anyone in this part of Texas owns a saber. This is 2015.”

  Ethel slunk back into the cushions. “True. But surgeons, well at least forensic doctors, use electric saws to cut bone. I’ve seen those crime shows on TV.”

  “Not too easy to acquire would be my guess.”

  “I’m trying, Janie.”

  “I know, dear. Sorry.” She wandered over and rested a hand on Ethel’s shoulder.

  Betsy Ann raised her hand. “Would a turkey knife work? I remember getting my son, Edgar, one for wedding present. He could slice through a thanksgiving bird in seconds flat.”

  “Electric knife? Betsy Ann, do they still make those?”

  “I’m sure so, Janie, but come to think of it, I don’t know if it would carve a human. The turkey was cooked, and people are, well, raw.” She stuck out her tongue and shuddered.

  Janie swatted the air with her hands. “We are getting off the track. We need to print out a picture of the robber with the scar. We can ask the clerk if he thinks it’s the same man. If so, I’ll call Blake. What was his name, Betsy Ann? Did Babs say?”