Men Of Moonstone Series

by Christine DeSmet

  Jason barged into a kitchen clogged with a dozen women. “Ladies, where's the victim?”

  “The paramedic is here!” yelled a stout woman with fluffy, brown hair. From the pictures in the file Jason thought she might be Margie Farina, the IGA store owner.

  Jason said, “Sorry, that's not me.”

  “Well, who are you? Oh my gosh, Tootsie has a cowboy lover.”

  He didn't see Hyacinth. Was she escaping? He got the feeling the women were preventing him from seeing the victim, as if the crime would go away if only he didn't look. Jason took off his Stetson. “Ladies—”

  “Golly, he's got nice hair,” said a white-haired woman using a walker. She owned the crackly voice. She had to be Ruth.

  Lily Bauer, dressed in pearls at seven in the morning, rushed at him with her sweet smile and lacquered nails. “Everybody, this is the new businessman in town, Jason Bellows. He's a pest control specialist. He's coming to the fish fry on Friday night.”

  A big “oooh” went up from the women. Several of them sniffed the air around him.

  “Isn't that nice,” said Ruth. “I'll buy you a brandy old-fashioned. You an olive guy or fruity?”

  Jason held up both hands. “Ladies, please, where the heck is Tootsie?”

  Lily pointed toward the next room, but batted her eyelashes as she looked up at Jason, her fingers fussing with her pearls. “You smell mighty fine today.”

  “Thanks.” He was relieved to know they weren't sniffing skunk smell on him.

  “In here, Jason,” Hyacinth called out. “She has a pulse after all. Tootsie's not dead.”

  Jason shimmied through the clot of women, aware of what must be “twittering” in his wake.

  Rita Johnson said, “She's not dead? Crap. Did she hear us talking about her?”

  Jason knelt down on a pink carpet in the living room. The silver-haired woman was out cold. She wore pink sweats covered with sparkly strawberries, but no blood.

  Hyacinth said, “Looks like she was knocked out maybe an hour or so ago.”

  Jason wondered how Hyacinth could conclude the time factor.

  “Listen, gals,” said a tall blonde in a gray uniform shirt and pants. “I'm late for my school bus route. See you gals later at the North Pole.” She'd been in the file, too—Jeri Kaminski.

  Jason inspected Tootsie's head. A bump the size of a golf ball had emerged through the hair on the top of her head. Somebody had hit her square, unusual enough, except for a tall person. Like Hyacinth. It also looked like somebody had mopped up the blood. Tootsie's bump sported an open cut with barely coagulated blood.

  Hyacinth said, “I already called 911.”

  “I know that.” Jason froze with his mistake, glad to be squatting on the floor and not looking Hyacinth in the eyes. “I mean, calling 911 doesn't automatically bring an ambulance, especially if they think she's dead. Did you say she was dead?”

  Jason got up and took out his cell phone.

  Hyacinth grabbed his wrist. “No need to call. This is a rural area. The ambulance can take a while.”

  “When did you call them?”

  Hyacinth took her hand back. Sweat peppered her face and into her hairline. “I don't know. There's been so much excitement that I haven't looked at a clock.”

  Yet she'd just said Tootsie had been out for an hour. Hyacinth was either mighty nervous or she'd been here for an hour working up that sweat. Had she been hauling stuff out of the house? After fighting with Tootsie?

  He put his phone away. “Maybe we should load her in my truck and I'll take her. Where's the hospital?”

  Margie fluffed her hair. “Duluth. An hour away. Since I have to get back and open up the grocery store I can show him the way.”

  “Nothing doing,” said Lily, sidling up beside Jason, a hand clasping his upper arm. “I can go with him to Duluth. The bank doesn't open until ten.”

  A siren wailed off in the distance.

  With relief, Jason put on his Stetson. He wasn't about to go anywhere with any of these women. Lily's fingernails trailed inappropriately down the sleeve of his jacket. Hyacinth worried a lip over the gesture, which Jason found curious.

  Jason stepped back from Lily. “Ladies, we have a woman here on the floor who somebody tried to ... murder.”

  The other women chorused, “We know. Are you sure? Maybe she tripped.”

  Jason licked his dry lips. They sounded like they were covering for each other. “Hyacinth, who do you think did this?”

  “She must've slipped on the stairs. She could've been running from the ghost.” Hyacinth said that with surprising composure.

  “So you're blaming a ghost for the knot on her head?”

  Hyacinth stepped over Tootsie, flapping her hands to shoo the women back. “Let's make room for the EMTs. Yes, it could've happened because Tootsie believes a ghost lives in her attic. Everybody around Moonstone knows that.”

  “You believe in ghosts?”

  “No. What I said was she believes in them. She was probably up there enjoying a cup of coffee with her ghost and slipped on the stairs.”

  “Then why is the knot on the top of her head? Somebody had to have been above her on the stairs to do that.”

  All the women began talking at once. They sounded like silkie chickens burbling at Jason. They surmised that Tootsie somehow somersaulted down the stairs and thus, the bump on top of her head. Jason was shaking his head.

  Two EMTs, both men, trotted in, stopping the chatter. They hoisted Tootsie onto a stretcher. One EMT sniffed the air and said to Jason, “I think there's a skunk problem. Somebody better call a wildlife specialist.”

  “That's okay,” Hyacinth said. “This is Jason Bellows. Pest control fellow.”

  The flock of women burbled over that, each of them offering up their problems with raccoons, possums, squirrels, ants, bats, and bees. With his head ready to explode, Jason trailed them following the stretcher through the kitchen. He asked, “Where's her husband, Bob?”

  The women, including Hyacinth, teared up and hugged each other. Jason heard them echo each other with, “Bob, that Bob, what are we going to do about Bob? All he cares about is his boat and...”

  Babes? Jason mentally filled in the missing word. He returned to the living room, vexed but determined to figure out what had transpired. What had Hyacinth done? If anything?

  The small living room had a rose-flowered couch, a matching chair, and the usual items like small tables, a magazine rack, and an ottoman. It also contained a huge collection of ceramic chickens of all sizes and colors filling shelves and windowsills, even the top of an old nineteen-inch television set. Jason knew where the husband was after all—anywhere but here.

  He frowned at a corner that he hadn't noticed before because of the crowd. The corner was empty. What had been moved? Or stolen?

  Hyacinth came charging into the room, out of breath. “We need you.”

  “Why?”

  “The chicks need you.”

  “Listen, Hyacinth, I could tell the bank teller was flirting, but I'm not really that kind of man.”

  “I'm not talking about women chicks. The baby chickens.”

  Jason still didn't get it. “Did you see rats?”

  “No. Haven't you noticed the electricity's out? It's freezing in here. Her incubator and brooder quit in the barn.”

  Hyacinth rushed back to the kitchen but took a detour. Jason heard her clomp down into the basement. She was back up the stairs before he could follow her.

  “The main breaker's been tripped and won't come back on. Don't you find that curious, Jason?”

  The only thing he found curious was Hyacinth. She was acting like a detective. Was it an “act” to throw him off? Had she disabled the electricity? She was handy, after all.

  He said, “Let's not worry about the electricity.”

  Hyacinth opened up Tootsie's refrigerator. It was dark. Hyacinth pulled out two pans of lemon bars, handing one pan to Jason. “She made these for today's meeting. O
ne of the Mavens can take them to the North Pole.”

  “The lady may be dying and you're worried about lemon bars?”

  Hyacinth didn't even flinch. “Tootsie would die if we didn't save her famous lemon bars. And her chicks. It's just how it is. Come on.”

  Jason followed Hyacinth out the front door. The bars went into Lily Bauer's car.

  In the chicken coop, a good dozen hens of every color including lavender garbled their hen talk from wood nesting boxes set up on wood benches along the walls. No plastic boat toilets here. The nutty smell of chicken feed and straw was pleasant to Jason, but urgency permeated the atmosphere. Hyacinth and the women picked up chicks out of big plastic storage boxes sitting under dead lamps hanging down. The women blew their hot breath on chicks cupped in their hands. Margie tucked a couple down her generous bosom.

  Hyacinth handed Jason a pinkish chick, which he warmed in his hands the best he could by opening his mouth wide and breathing on it. He said, “How long is this going to take?”

  “I don't know. We'll have to watch over them while I see what I can do about hooking up a generator outside.”

  “I can't stay,” Margie said. “I have to get to work. And animals aren't allowed in my store. Health codes.”

  Jeri, who hadn't yet left for her school bus route, said, “I can't take them on the bus, and I can't take them home. We have a terrier. He kills anything that moves.”

  Lily said, “I'd have to take them with me to the bank, but that place is always freezing. I always wear sweaters.” She showed off a pink sweater set under her coat.

  “Ladies, I'll take them.” Jason was as stunned by his taking charge as the women staring back at him. “I'm staying over at Peter LeBarron's farm. Their coop is empty.”

  Hyacinth said, “I'll go with you. I'll bring along a sack of feed and get everything set up for you.”

  Margie took a tan chick from out of her bosom and handed it to Jason. “Hold this little cutie pie while we get the others rounded up.”

  Now Jason held two chicks in his hands, pink and tan, both soft as thistle down. Their beating hearts vibrated through the tender membranes of their skin, tickling his palm and touching a new area in Jason's heart. They peeped. The pink one pecked at a thumb.

  When he looked up with a big grin, his eyes met Hyacinth's sparkling gaze. She held her box of peeping chicks and said, “You're a nice man, Jason Bellows. You just saved their lives by warming them up.”

  “Jason Bellows. Pest Control Fellow. All I need is a cape.” He lowered his chicks into Hyacinth's box. “I'll get the truck warmed up.”

  The back of Jason's Jeep Cherokee was soon filled with three plastic storage boxes of peeping chicks. Hyacinth hopped in the front passenger seat. She warmed her hands in the blast of hot air coming from the vents. “Let's hurry. I don't want to lose any of Tootsie's chicks. That poor woman.”

  Jason put the truck on the country road but couldn't ignore the feeling that Hyacinth might be too eager to draw him away from Tootsie Winters’ house.

  After they arrived at the LeBarron farm, it took longer than expected to get the brooders set up, but Jason discovered he cared about the little fuzz balls being saved. To be needed this much ... Heck, he'd never been needed this much by anybody.

  When they put the last of the chicks under the warm bulbs, Hyacinth said, “I need you to take me to town.”

  “Isn't your bike over at Tootsie's? We're going back there first.”

  “I'm late for the sewing circle meeting in town. Say, why don't you join us? The Moonstone Mavens haven't had anything this juicy to talk about since the priest was murdered before Margie's wedding. We could use your help.”

  His sister had thought joining the group a good idea, too. By going, it appeared Jason would please everybody.

  At eleven o'clock that Wednesday morning, Jason found himself the center of attention of eight women in the library of the North Pole mansion. Hyacinth's entire house would fit inside this room replete with leather sofas and antique chairs. Willa Hamm and Margie Farina sat on the thick Persian rug.

  Ellen Peplinski, the former grifter and mother of Kirsten, the chef, sat to the left of Jason on one sofa. “Normally we have at least ten of us,” she said, “but Rita couldn't find a sub at the post office and Tootsie, well...”

  The group went silent. The love-hate thing for Tootsie still puzzled Jason.

  Hyacinth, sitting on his right, grabbed Jason's hand and said, “Let's take thirty seconds of silence and send good thoughts her way.”

  Everybody joined hands.

  Ruthie said, “None of us really wants her dead, even if we want to kill her sometimes.”

  Jeri said, “If she weren't so darn insulting all the time to new people among us.”

  “Indeed,” piped up Lily Bauer, who sat across from Jason on an ottoman. “Jason, you're lucky she's lights out because she'd be telling you ‘what for’ about that aftershave you're wearing and all your imperfections.”

  “Mavens, please,” Hyacinth said.

  What imperfections? Jason bowed his head.

  After the prayer moment was over, the women pulled out towels, hoops, needles, and threads from baskets or bags and set to work.

  Margie, who was sitting on the floor near Lily, said, “Why don't we all lend a hand on Tootsie's towel today, so she can still finish one for sale next week?”

  Hyacinth got up from her chair. “A great idea.” She hurried off to a closet and brought out a bag, producing a towel with a hoop and needle, which she then plopped in Jason's lap. “Jason, you start. It'll help you get on Tootsie's good side right off the bat.”

  He protested, but Hyacinth ignored him. She showed him how to bring the needle in and out over a portion of a pink flower petal. “Just a few stitches, then we'll pass it on. Tootsie will love knowing the pest control officer helped make it.”

  Ellen said, “Knowing Tootsie, she'll try to auction Jason off along with the towel.”

  Lily said, “Or Jason in the towel.”

  The women did more twittering. He exchanged a red-hot, embarrassed look with Hyacinth beside him. She'd seen him in only a towel the night before. He hoped she'd keep it their secret. Hyacinth helped him guide his next stitch by laying her strong, warm hands over the top of his.

  Lily said, “That's not a bad idea, Jason, an auction. You're new to town. What a way for all the ladies to get to know you. You're not dating anyone, are you?”

  “No.”

  Ruthie hooted. “Fresh meat. I'll start the bidding on May Day at a hundred.”

  Ellen said, “Let's run our own scam. The Mavens will bid you up. I'm sure some rich woman fresh from the casino will top all of us.”

  Hyacinth said, “We'll give the money to the town's library fund.”

  “Hold on, ladies,” Jason said. “I can't do it.”

  “Why ever not?” asked Lily.

  “Yes, why not?” Hyacinth looked him square in the eyes, only an inch from his face. He could see each delicate fleck of blue in her irises. And see himself. He had the oddest sensation that he was inside Hyacinth looking out.

  The room got stuffy. Jason couldn't tell them he planned to leave as soon as he solved the crime. “Tootsie's not here. Shouldn't she have a vote on this?”

  Hyacinth said, “Jason's right. Let's focus on helping Tootsie. Who would want to murder Tootsie?”

  The women all began talking at once again, all except Willa Hamm, who was sitting on the floor. She kept her face down in her task of embroidering.

  Jason listened, poking his needle in and out of the cotton towel to form a flower. He learned that the body of a priest had been hidden for a time by the Mavens under the front porch of the mansion, and then hidden in this very library prior to Margie's wedding to Tony Farina. The Mavens discovered that one of Tony's young chef assistants—angry at the priest for past indiscretions—had been the culprit. The more Jason listened, the more he was convinced that these ladies were capable of anything—even
crimes and cover-ups. They were smart.

  Jason also noticed that Willa kept her face hidden in her embroidery. He watched her while learning from the gossip that octogenarian flirt Ruth Mueller just got a new Apple computer and had already signed on to an online dating service; she'd used the interactive camera function to have an online date with some “young” guy of sixty in Kalamazoo, Michigan. She mentioned how younger men loved gadgets. It made Jason wonder again about Toad Vinje, one of the students. Was he stealing gadgets and fencing them? Was Tildy Hamm involved? Was that why Willa Hamm was so quiet down there on the floor?

  Hyacinth said, “What about the ghost in her attic? Let's spread the word around town that we think a ghost hit her over the head. It'll throw people off, including the person who really hit her. The person will think we're all idiots and try it again.”

  “Good idea,” said Lily. “When I get back to work at the bank, I'll tell every customer about the ghost.”

  Jeri said, “I'll tell all the kids on my bus this afternoon. Jason, you could spread the word to your customers. Who's your next customer?”

  Lily winked at him. “I have a squirrel that keeps trying to get in my attic. Come over tonight and we'll crack a few nuts.”

  The women hooted.

  Hyacinth said, “He's coming to my house next.”

  Jason went hot all over. “I am?”

  “To get rid of my skunks. Tonight. I'll pay you with dinner.”

  Eyebrows went up around the circle. Lily pursed her lips. Jason realized Hyacinth had just saved him from Lily's clutches. He took a deep breath. “Of course, dinner and skunks. I think the biggest skunk was whoever did in your friend, Tootsie. Any idea who might've done it?”

  When the women couldn't come up with a name, Jason offered, “What about kids? Teenagers? College students looking for quick cash? College costs a bundle.” Out of the corner of an eye he watched Willa Hamm for her reaction. She didn't look up.

  Ruthie put down her embroidery. “You mean you think young people might've knocked Tootsie over the head? What's this world coming to!”