Death at the Bar X Ranch

by Marlene Chabot

  Mrs. Grimshaw looked from me to Aunt Zoe and then back to me again. I could tell there were a ton of questions spinning around in the old woman’s head. Unfortunately, some would have to be explained when my roommate wasn’t around. Our new apartment neighbor graciously accepted my relative’s hand at once. “Nice to meet you, Zoe. I’m Margaret Grimshaw, but my friends call me Margaret. I’m a long-standing resident of the Foley.”

  “Mrs. Grimshaw, I mean Margaret, has known Matt for many years,” I explained as I repositioned the box of books, using a hip for support. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, indeed,” she replied in a library fashion.

  Aunt Zoe shook her spiked red-crowned head now. “Oh? You’re the lady who gave Mary the lowdown on how to leverage her way in here. Thanks a bunch for that hot tip.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, Zoe, perhaps you’d better open that door like Mary asked. It looks like she’s losing her grip on that box.”

  My roommate got all jittery. “Oh, my gosh. I got so caught up in introducing myself to you I forgot about the door, and the guys are closing in fast too.” She spun towards the entrance to our abode, quickly shoved the key in its lock and then threw the door open.

  “Thanks, Margaret, for coming to my rescue,” I said. “I owe you one.”

  The elderly woman waved her hand in front of me. “It was nothing. I could see you were having trouble.” She started to move away, but then she changed her mind. “Say, Mary, why don’t you two take a break this afternoon and stop by for a cup of tea. I’ll have my double chocolate chip brownies ready by then. They’re one of Matt’s favorite.”

  Brownies? Yummy. That’s all I’m going to be thinking about while I’m unpacking. “Ah, thanks for the offer, Margaret. We’ll definitely do that.”

  As soon as I walked into the apartment, Aunt Zoe said, “That Mrs. Grimshaw’s one nice lady, Mary. We’re lucky to have her as a neighbor. Why, we could’ve ended up with a real crabby person living across the hall from us.”

  “Yup. Or a non-stop talker,” I softly replied as thoughts of delicious goodies danced in my head. Since the furniture was still out in the U-Haul truck, I quickly set my box on the floor in the corner of the living room where nothing else took up space. “You know, Aunt Zoe, Margaret and you have a lot in common.”

  “Oh, you mean she likes to travel?”

  “Not that per se. Margaret’s just very active. Besides being involved with the local gardening club, she loves to dance, paint, and cook.”

  “Dance? Huh? I’ll have to ask where she goes. I may want to tag along. So, where did the guys disappear to, Mary?”

  Michael’s loud voice suddenly boomed through the dry air, saving me the trouble of explaining where the men were. “Hey, Sis, do you want the boxes on the kitchen table or the counter by the sink?”

  Just because my brother found it necessary to yell at me didn’t mean I was going to respond likewise. No way. Living in an apartment, one hears every quarrel or conversation that drifts in from surrounding apartments, and I didn’t plan to have anyone know about my life so they could share it with others. I hustled to the kitchen now. “Matt’s table’s being stored at Mom and Dad’s along with some other stuff,” I explained, “so put the boxes on the counter,” and then I turned and made my way back to the living room.

  Aunt Zoe was sitting on the couch now. “Tell me what I can do, Mary?”

  “Just stay put. The guys and I can manage the truck.”

  “How about I unpack the dishes?”

  I ran my hand across my forehead. I wasn’t used to giving adults things to do, just children. “No, I’m not ready for that yet. I have to clean out what Matt’s left in the cupboards first. The box I just brought in has several magazines in it if you’d like to read something.”

  Aunt Zoe leaned back and stretched her arms in the air. “Oh, like what? Ladies Home Journal? O? Readers Digest? National Geographic?”

  “Sorry, I don’t have any of those, but I do have some excellent educator magazines, Instructor and Education Week.”

  My aunt’s perpetual smile flipped to a frown in two seconds flat. “You know, Mary, my eyes are kind of tired. I think I’ll just catch something on TV instead,” and then she reached for the remote control.

  “Great idea. You can fill me in on what’s going on in the world later.” I heard the sound of feet shuffling on the hallway’s oak floor, which meant Alex and Michael must be finished in the kitchen. I quickly put my tennis shoes back on. “Okay, Auntie, the guys and I are going to the truck. Be back in a few minutes.”

  “All right,” she half-replied as her eyes finally settled on a wildlife show on CBS.

  A nature show? I would’ve thought my aunt had had her fill of it while in Africa. Oh, well. At least she found something to occupy her time, or so I thought as I drifted towards the door. I had barely moved three inches when Aunt Zoe suddenly cried out, “Mary.”

  What now? I quickly whipped the upper portion of my body in her direction once more. “Yes?”

  “The keys for the lobby.”

  “What about them?”

  “You can’t get back in the building without them, right?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  She pointed to the object on the cushion next to her.

  “Oh?” I held out my hands, indicating she should toss the keys to me. She did. I caught them in midair.

  “Good catch, Mary,” Michael commented from the sidelines, “We’ll get your name on the Twins’ roster for next season. Come on. Time’s a wasting.”

  Chapter 4

  I had just finished tucking in the top sheet to make the final hospital corner on the bed when I glanced over at the radio situated on the nightstand diagonally across from me and noticed the time. Three o’clock already. Good grief. The day had slipped through my clutches too fast. Alex and Michael had left over two hours ago, and I still had barely made a dent in my unpacking. I straightened my back. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mary. Remember Rome wasn’t built in a day either. “That’s true.” And now that your bed’s almost made, your body can crash anytime it wants. “True again.”

  I quickly spread the lightweight wine-and-rose stripped hand-me-down coverlet across the bed, placed the sham-covered bed pillows against the headboard, and then staggered the color-coordinated toss pillows in front of them. “One important task done. Yay.”

  I stepped back to appraise my work now. Different bedding made a huge difference. The once male-dominated room had been successfully transformed. I patted myself on the shoulder. “Good job, Mary.” Of course, I still wanted to purchase a little desk for the room to spread my teaching stuff out on instead of the kitchen table where I’d be in Aunt Zoe’s way.

  It was she who insisted I occupy Matt’s bedroom. With all the traveling she’d done over the years, it didn’t matter anymore if she slept on hard-packed earth or a super comfortable mattress in a five star hotel. “Besides,” she added, “the working gal in this apartment, namely me, required a good night’s sleep.” When I graciously accepted her decision, I told her the bed was always available for catnaps during the day.

  What should I tackle next? The kitchen or finish up in here? Three blue medium-sized Rubbermaid storage bins stacked one on top of the other stood in a corner of the room begging to be emptied. They contained what little clothing I owned. The clothes won out. Dishes didn’t have a chance when it came to wrinkles. Just as I began to approach the containers, my stomach loudly complained. “Oh, crap.” It wasn’t only the afternoon that had slipped away. I’d forgotten about Mrs. Grimshaw’s offer of brownies and tea. I zipped out of the bedroom in nothing flat.

  Aunt Zoe lay as still as a turtle all spread out on Matt’s La-Z-Boy taking a catnap. It’s nice to know someone has time for a nap. Not wanting to be blamed for giving someone who just joined the medi
care ranks a heart attack, I cautiously inched my way towards the recliner and my aunt’s head, and then when I was situated just right, I spoke softly into her ear. “Oh, Aunt Zoe. Wake up, Aunt Zoe.”

  The woman’s sixty-five-year-old body jerked wildly. “Wha . . . Huh?” and then her grayish-blue eyes popped open, and she released a loud yawn. “Oh, it’s only you, Mary. I must’ve fallen asleep. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. My body’s feeling the effects of the move too. I just haven’t given in to it yet.”

  My dad’s sister stretched her short arms above her head. “Is there something you want help with, Mary?”

  “Ah, not exactly. Remember our neighbor’s invite?” Aunt Zoe’s head immediately bobbed up and down. “Well, it’s already three. We better get going before she reneges on it.”

  “Oh, yes. We don’t want to ignore an invite our first day here. Just let me freshen up a bit. I don’t want to give our neighbor the wrong impression.”

  “Will that take very long?” I politely asked, not knowing if her version of freshen up included a shower too.

  My aunt flashed one of her multi-colored ring-fingered hands in front of me. “Five minutes at the max.” She straightened the recliner to a sitting position and then pushed her five-foot-two frame off the comfy black cushions and made her way to where her many packed suitcases stood. After examining the suitcases for a couple seconds, she grabbed the handle of the bright-green medium-sized one and began her trip to the bathroom.

  As I watched Aunt Zoe’s slow progress down the hall with her suitcase, I pictured Matt’s small medicine cabinet being invaded by nothing but makeup. It sent chills down my spine. I’m a no-fuss lipstick girl. The lipstick’s stored in my purse, so all I required for bathroom space was a tiny spot for a toothbrush and toothpaste. Hopefully, my aunt would leave me enough room for that.

  The bathroom door finally squeaked, confirming it had had been closed. I plopped on the couch and carefully studied the minute hand on my watch. Never having lived with my dad’s sister before, this was the perfect time to see if she’d be ready when she’d said. Late people drive me bonkers, and that includes my friend Elaine. Maybe it’s the teacher in me. An educator learns fairly quickly that a classroom doesn’t take much to become a zoo, and a late teacher really magnifies the problem.

  Four minutes and fifty seconds later, my roommate floated back into the living room looking like an African queen. Three layers of dark beads surrounded her chunky neck, and three pairs of tiny silver pierced earrings stuck to each of her earlobes. She had tossed off her fancy jeans and blue long-sleeved top to make way for a Dashiki, a long flowing garment I’ve only seen advertised in a magazine such as Serengeti. It was definitely different, but this Irish/French gal wouldn’t be caught dead in one. I believed in blending in, not standing out. Her ensemble was rounded out with uniquely designed sandals probably from Africa too. The woven shoes exposed her pudgy toenails that had been painted bright orange to match her garment.

  Now that she was standing directly in front of me, Aunt Zoe flung her arms out at her sides and quickly twirled for inspection. “Well, what do you think?”

  I sat there dumbfounded. My aunt’s choice of clothing and such was over the top, but everything she did was like that. I, on the other hand, Miss straight-laced Mary, had never done anything wild or exciting except for parasailing in Puerto Vallarta this past winter.

  “I know. It’s great isn’t it? And, you wouldn’t believe how comfy it is.”

  I cracked a smile. “Okay, let’s lock up.” I wanted to tell Aunt Zoe what I really thought, but there was no way I was going to. You see, I’m a firm believer in allowing a person to express themselves in ways that aren’t harmful to animals or other human beings. I just hoped Margaret’s nonagenarian eyes could handle the bright psychedelic experience. She was too old to have been a flower child.

  *****

  A lightweight voice addressed us the minute I rapped on the well-worn door across the hall from us. “Come in. Come in.” We waltzed in and were immediately greeted by our hostess, a hint of lilacs in bloom and freshly baked sweets. I twisted my head a smidgen now and noted a vase filled with lilacs on the dining room table. And, yes, there was a plate of goodies too. Yummy.

  The nonagenarian’s face was aglow and so was her body. “I’m so glad you came. I wondered if you two ladies were going to be able to drop by.” The front of Margaret’s short frame was covered with a red-and-white chef-style apron over a dark navy short-sleeved cotton dress. The outfit was a sharp contrast to my aunt’s ensemble.

  Guilt ridden about our late arrival, I hastily apologized for the delay. “Sorry, we’re showing up so late, Margaret. The afternoon slipped by faster than we realized.”

  A true diplomat, the elderly woman offered a fresh smile. “Dear, there’s no need for apologies. I would’ve understood if you hadn’t come. Even though I settled in here years ago, I’ve seen what a toll moving takes on others as they come and go.”

  “Oh, man, does it ever,” Aunt Zoe said as she edged into Margaret’s personal space.

  The loss of free flowing air didn’t upset the nonagenarian in the least. She merely adjusted her thin glasses balanced precariously on her nose and said, “My, Zoe, what a lovely garment you have on.”

  Zoe shared a half-moon grin. “Why, thank you. I’m glad you like it. It’s a Dashiki.”

  I piped in with, “She says it’s so comfy.”

  “Well, it is,” my aunt went on, “There’s nothing to bind me.”

  I gave my aunt an amused look. Luckily, she understood my silent message. “Oh, forgive me, Margaret. I . . . I didn’t mean to imply I wasn’t wearing any under garments.”

  Our new neighbor put my roommate at ease. “Don’t worry. Your words didn’t shock me, Zoe. Nowadays, we’re so bombarded by quotes from movie stars and athletes telling us how liberating it is to have nothing on underneath. Believe me, for someone my age, it’s just liberating to know I still have something there to hold up.”

  Aunt Zoe and I burst out laughing.

  Once we all settled down, Margaret swayed the topic from under garments to outer wear. “So, tell me. Did you find your Dashiki at Nordstrom’s?”

  “This old thing? No. I bought it in Africa.”

  “That’s right,” Margaret hastily replied, “Matt mentioned you’ve been to Africa several times. I’d love to hear about your adventures sometime if you don’t mind repeating your stories.”

  My aunt’s hands sliced through the air. “Oh, not at all. I never get tired of recalling my wonderful adventures. Just give me a jingle when you’re free.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Margaret’s very first words to us echoed through the room again. “Come in. Come in,” but the high-pitched words didn’t seem to have been uttered from her mouth. Her lips were sealed. Unless she was a ventriloquist, but Matt wouldn’t have kept that under wraps this long.

  My eyes swiftly darted in and out of the two exposed areas: kitchen and living room. There didn’t appear to be anyone else around.

  Leave it to Aunt Zoe to figure it out. “Why, I just adore parrots. My deceased husband, Ed, and I saw so many varieties during our travels. I’ve been told they’re easy to care for. Is that true?”

  The nonagenarian flapped her hands in front of her. “Oh, my, yes. You barely know they’re around, nothing like a cat or a dog, and they live sixty years or more.” Now she ushered us into her dining room.

  My aunt wasn’t ready to drop the topic on birds quite yet. “What kind of parrot do you own?”

  “Petey’s a Blue-fronted Amazon. Speaking of pets, how’s Gracie doing? I’ve really missed that mutt.”

  “She’s fine,” I rapidly replied. “As a matter of fact, we get to watch her for a whole month.”

  Margaret’s eyes lit up so brightly
one would’ve thought a switch had been thrown to show off a dark baseball field. “When? Will she be coming here, or will you stay at your folks’ house?”

  I didn’t respond. My mind had taken a sharp detour to Margaret’s delightfully decorated dining room table: ecru-colored linen tablecloth, plaid luncheon napkins, and white fine bone china trimmed with a sliver of gold. Of course, the piece de resistance, a large plate of freshly baked brownies, sat smack dab in the center of the table.

  Since I had left Margaret’s question unanswered, Aunt Zoe took it upon herself to fill in the gap. “Gracie’s staying here starting tomorrow.”

  Our hostess clapped her hands. “Wonderful. I can’t wait to see her. Ladies, make yourselves comfortable. The water’s simmering on the stove in the kitchen, and I just have to transfer it to the ceramic teapot.”

  As soon as Margaret left the room, we pulled out our chairs and sat. “Ah, this feels good,” I shared, “after all that zipping in and out of the apartment and unpacking.”

  Aunt Zoe leaned closer to me and whispered, “You should’ve taken a nap like me, Mary. I’m ready to run a marathon.” I didn’t think so but I let it slide. She pulled away from me and swiftly turned her attention to the spread laid before us. “Our neighbor is such a perfect hostess, isn’t she? There’s no way I can do all this busy stuff, and I’m nowhere near ninety. Exactly how far over ninety is Margaret anyway?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know. Matt never clarified that for me.”

  “Hmm?” Aunt Zoe said as she lightly tapped her index finger on her lips. “Perhaps he didn’t know either.”

  Before I could say anything further, Margaret traipsed into the dining room carrying a dainty black-and-white Japanese-style teapot. “Here we go. I hope you don’t mind if I set the pot by you, Mary. Sometimes these old hands get a little shaky.”