Paradise Park

by Carolina Mac

  Edgar ambled out the kitchen door. “What’s up, neighbor,” he asked with a half grin.

  “My dog chased a cat all the way down the street to your trailer, and I came to take him home.”

  A look crossed Edgar’s face and he cursed under his breath. He clumped down off the porch in his rubber boots and started looking around while Lonnie continued hollering for the dog. “Could have run into the bush,” he said, “Runs right behind my property.” He pointed to the tree line that bordered the park.

  “Can I look behind your trailer?” asked Lon, “He was running that way.”

  “Sure, I’ll come with you.”

  We all walked around the back and were joined by Marg who came out the back door, a butt dangling out of her mouth. “What did you lose?” she hollered.

  “They lost their dog,” said Edgar.

  “There he is,” said Lonnie spotting Ted’s tail behind the greenhouse. Some of the plastic had ripped free from the staples and was flapping in the breeze. Ted was hunched forward, kicking dirt back like he was digging for gold. “Wow, he’s really going at it. Sorry man, let me grab a shovel and I’ll fill it in for you.”

  “Don’t bother,” snapped Edgar, “Just get your damned hound off my property. I’ll clean up myself.”

  Color rose in the old guy’s cheeks and Lonnie noticed. I guess he thought it best not to antagonize him into a coronary. “Okay, if that’s what you want, but I’d rather clean up Ted’s mess than just leave it,” said Lonnie. He clipped the leash on Ted’s collar.

  “No, no.” Edgar shook his head and waved us off. “You go on home. I’ll take care of it.”

  Lonnie and I walked with Ted all the way back to our end of the street. “He was pissy about the dog,” I said.

  Lonnie’s dark brow raised as he nodded. “Was he ever. Wouldn’t want to meet him in the dark.”

  “What were you digging up, Ted?” I asked, stroking one of his long silky ears.

  Ted didn’t tell. He could keep a secret.

  BARKLEY AND WINONA relaxed in her late mother’s garden at the little glass-topped table under the rose covered arbor. Betty would have approved. The two of them lingered over their morning coffee enjoying the heady scent wafting down from the floral canopy above. Their reverie was interrupted when Lonnie and Gracie raced by, hot on the trail of Ted and the orange streak that was Mrs. Mancuso’s runaway cat.

  “Dog off the leash,” said Barkley with a scowl.

  Winona stroked his arm. “Bark sweetheart, probably an accident that he got away without his leash. They didn’t break a rule on purpose.”

  He sighed. “You’re right, of course, my dearest one. I’m trying to loosen up a bit. I cause myself too much stress worrying about all the residents and their shortcomings.”

  “The shortcomings of the people living in this park could paralyze your brain, my darling man. We’re here to enjoy life, not worry about the daily disasters of those less fortunate. Would it help if I kissed you?”

  “I daresay, it would.” A little color warmed his handsome face.

  Winona leaned over, cupped Barkley’s luxurious head of hair in her hands and planted a firm kiss on his mouth. He moaned with contentment.

  “There’s quite a commotion over there,” said Barkley when Winona came up for air, “back by the greenhouse.”

  Winona pulled herself up to her full five feet ten inches to get a better view over the robust tomato plants staked up in Edgar’s garden. “The dog dug a hole and Edgar is mad as hell,” she said with a little giggle. “That man is laced up way too tight.”

  “Edgar can be quite fussy about his property,” said Barkley. “He and your mother were always into it over weeds and leaves blowing around and who needed to cut their grass and of course, her cat.”

  “Mother always said that Edgar was an ass and she didn’t know how Mabel could stand living with him.” Winona stretched to see what was going on next door.

  “Mabel spent a lot of time over here with your mother, dear. Probably her sanctuary to get away from Edgar the ass.” Barkley chuckled.

  “Mother was a hundred per cent sure that he killed Mabel,” said Winona. “I drove her to the police station the first time when she reported her best friend missing.”

  “The worst day of my life was here at this very table when Betty saw the article in the paper.” Barkley clutched his heart. “Oh, my. I can hardly bear to think of it.”

  Winona hugged him. “Don’t stress, darling. It’s over now and Mother is in heaven.”

  Barkley glanced towards the greenhouse and watched Edgar swinging his shovel. “He seems quite desperate to get that hole filled in. Why would he be so angry about it?”

  Winona raised her eyebrows. “Makes you wonder what’s buried there, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, my nerves,” said Barkley clutching Winona’s arm. “You don’t think…”

  MARG LIT A fresh smoke and ambled behind the greenhouse to watch Edgar at work. He was filling in the hole with a vengeance and tamping down the dirt with his shovel.

  “Fucking hound dog,” he mumbled as he kicked a wayward rock out of his way.

  “Why are you so pissy over a little hole in the ground, teddy bear?” Marg leaned forward to get a closer look at what Edgar was doing and he planted a gnarled hand in the middle of her chest and shoved her backwards. She stumbled a couple of steps before she regained her balance.

  “Hey, don’t push me. I wasn’t doing anything.”

  “Stay out of my business, Margie or you’ll be sorry,” snarled Edgar.

  “Maybe you’ll be sorry when I’m not putting out for you any more, you old geezer.” Marg turned on her heel, headed back into the trailer and slammed the back door.

  “Women,” said Edgar under his breath. He reached for the rake and smoothed out the dirt.

  Marg was still plenty pissy a half hour later when Harold Deegan drove his golf cart in the driveway and limped up onto the porch. Edgar was all smiles.

  “Ready to go Harold?” asked Edgar. He had packed a lunch and filled a cooler. The boat was hitched to the back of his pickup ready to go.

  “Yep. First time this year I’ve been fishing. Looking forward to it. Hello Marg,” he said. He seemed a little surprised to see her at Edgar’s trailer. Over the years, Harold had probably seen more musical beds played in his park than he cared to remember.

  She waved goodbye to Edgar and Harold as the truck and boat eased down the road. They were gone to the lake for the day and that suited her just fine. She wanted to see what Edgar had buried behind the greenhouse. He was a mean old man and he was way too old and set in his ways for her to live with. Besides, he was no hell in bed. Even with the magic blue pill.

  “I should have let Sheila have him,” she said to herself and lit up another smoke. “I’m done with men pushing me around.”

  After the fishermen had been gone an hour Marg headed out behind the greenhouse. She picked up the shovel that Edgar had left propped against the polyurethane wall and started to dig. The first foot down was easy going where the runaway dog had already loosened the dirt. The digging got harder after that and Marg had to stop and catch her breath. As she made the hole deeper she made it bigger around the edges so she could wield the shovel more easily. Fifteen minutes later she sat down on the back porch steps to cool off and have a smoke. She was sweating like a pig. Shoveling wasn’t in her usual day’s work. Nothing was.

  While she rested on the step Betty’s daughter wandered over. “Hi, I’m Winona from next door. I saw you digging out here and wondered if I could help you?”

  “Why would you want to do that?” asked Marg.

  “Curiosity.”

  “Edgar sure got pissy when the dog was digging there,” said Marg. “I want to see what he was covering up in such a helluva hurry.” She threw down her butt and stood up. “There’s another shovel in the shed.” She got the second shovel for Winona and they redoubled their efforts.

  An hour later the hol
e was considerably bigger—two feet wide and three feet deep. Winona suddenly let loose with a little whimpering cry and jumped into the hole. Her filmy skirt fluttered around her and made the move look fairy-like and effortless.

  “What is it?” asked Marg peering into the dirt.

  Winona couldn’t speak. “It’s…it’s…” she scrambled out of the hole, leaned forward and hurled her breakfast onto the grass. After she wiped her face off with the back of her hand she began screaming for Barkley at the top of her lungs. “Barkley, come quickly,” she repeated over and over until the tall blond guy from two trailers over was holding her in his arms and rocking her.

  “What is it my darling?” he asked her.

  Winona pointed a beautifully manicured index finger at the hole. Marg stared right at it but she didn’t want to believe her eyes. Her head began spinning and she trembled all over.

  “Lord save us all,” said Barkley in a whisper. “It’s a hand.” He called 911 and the three of them retreated to Winona’s garden patio to wait for the police.

  Marg smoked, stared into space and spoke not a word.

  Winona wept. “Mother was right all along.”

  Barkley cuddled her on his knee and stroked her long raven hair. “Yes, she was, my darling. She was so right.”

  HAROLD AND EDGAR arrived home from the lake around five o’clock after a long and relaxing day of fishing. As Edgar piloted his pickup down Hickory Lane South his eyes widened at the sight of the circus of activity unfolding in front of him. A plethora of vehicles were parked in the turn-around adjacent to his property. Yellow crime scene tape was strung from pine tree to cedar to maple encompassing the entire perimeter around his lot. Police officers and crime scene technicians were crawling over the place like flies on manure. He sucked in a huge breath when his eyes focused on the Medical Examiner’s van.

  “What’s that all about?” asked Harold with a frown.

  “No idea,” said Edgar in a whisper. He was pale as a ghost as he drove the truck right on by his street.

  “Where are you going?” asked Harold.

  “I’ll drop you off, Harold. No way you can get to your golf cart. Pick it up later.” Edgar stopped in front of Harold’s trailer, helped him out with his cane and his fishing gear, jumped in the driver’s seat and hightailed it towards the back gate.

  Harold was still on his porch when a black Crown Vic pulled up. “Detective McMurtry,” Harold called, “what’s happening at Edgar’s?”

  “I’ll explain later. Where did Edgar go? My officer on the gate said he was in the park.”

  “He dropped me off and headed towards the back gate.” Harold frowned. “What’s going on?”

  McMurtry jumped into his car and roared after Edgar without an explanation. Seconds later, Detective Spangler was on his front step.

  “Where’s Mr. Plimpton?” she asked.

  “Left by way of the back gate. Your partner went after him,” said Harold.

  “Damn it all anyway,” she cursed under her breath then fought to regain her composure. “Mr. Deegan, glad you’re back. I need to update you on what happened this afternoon. We found a body buried behind Edgar’s greenhouse and of course speculation is running high that it’s the remains of Mrs. Plimpton. Two female residents were suspicious and dug her up. We have them to thank.”

  Harold shook his head in disbelief. “Who?”

  “Marg Baker and Miss Winona Farrell did the job.”

  “How did they know where to dig?” asked Harold the logical thinker.

  “A neighbor’s dog wanted to dig a hole in that exact spot and Miss Baker was curious after she saw how Edgar reacted to the digging.”

  “And I spent the day fishing with the bastard?”

  “You didn’t know, sir. No way you could have known.”

  “Why wasn’t I convinced after the Chihuahuas were found in the lake? I guess I’ve known Edgar way too long. Either that or I’m getting too damn old.”

  McMurtry returned and stopped at Harold’s trailer when he caught sight of his partner. He hollered out the car window. “Found his truck down by the river. The boat trailer is empty. Don’t know if he went upriver or down.”

  “Damn,” said Spangler. “I’ll put it on the radio and have him picked up. We have the warrant.”

  “Would you mind if I rested for a while?” Harold edged towards the door. “Been a long day.”

  “You go ahead, Mr. Deegan. We’ll be at the Plimpton trailer for the next couple of days.”

  “Thank you, Detective.” Harold sat for a moment on his porch, clutching his chest and waiting for his breathing to return to normal. He stood up, leaning heavily on his cane and went inside.

  LONNIE WHEELED MY truck through the gates of the park just after nine. Lined up and down both sides of the highway were TV vans and trucks from radio stations, networks and newspapers. The sight to his left, at the end of Hickory Lane was unbelievable. Edgar’s property was a hive of activity. Lights had been set up behind the trailer. The meadow was as bright as Yankee Stadium during the World Series and the rest of the property looked like a parking lot for a cop convention.

  “Wow, wonder what’s going on down there at the old grump’s house?” asked Lonnie.

  “Maybe his wife came back home,” I said.

  “If she came back home, baby, I don’t think there would be that many cops.”

  “Guess not. Maybe he beat up his new girlfriend, Marg.”

  “Fuck,” said Lonnie. He parked the truck and let Ted out of his trailer for a run. “Don’t run off, Ted. I ate too much dinner and I can’t chase you again.” He chuckled and patted his stomach.

  “Maybe Ted dug up Edgar’s wife.” I winked at him.

  “What?”

  “Just kidding. I write too much crime.” I unlocked my trailer and went inside while Lon sat on the deck with Ted still on his leash. “I’m making coffee,” I called through the screen door, “Thanks for dinner.”

  “The least I could do.”

  When I returned to the deck, Lon patted his knee. “Come sit with me. It’s a beautiful night.”

  I leaned into him and kissed his neck. “Are you sleeping with me tonight, cowboy?”

  “I hate sleeping alone any more. You spoiled me.”

  “You have Ted.”

  “Not anymore I don’t. You stole him. Stole his heart when you stole mine.”

  “You’re sweet. I love you, Lonnie.”

  When the coffee was ready, I carried the tray outside, flicked on the porch light and placed the tray on the patio table.

  “You’re so beautiful, Grace. You take my breath away.”

  “Thanks, cowboy.” I reached over and touched his hand and watched him smile. The dimple on the left side of his face was so sexy. Lonnie was hot and I’d been missing him in my bed.

  After coffee, I was picking up the tray when I heard the rumble start up on the next street over. Trying to ignore the sound of the bike, I picked up the tray and carried it to the kitchen like I was in my right mind. My heart pounded, knowing what the sound of the Harley engine was doing to Lonnie. He was insanely jealous and I hadn’t known that about him before the advent of Rob.

  Lonnie hadn’t followed me inside so I stuck my head out the door. “Coming to bed?”

  “In a minute,” he said with an edge to his voice.

  Come on Lon, don’t spoil a perfect evening.

  I stepped out onto the deck and leaned on the railing. The Harley rumble got louder as Rob drove his ride up Pine Street towards the gate. He didn’t turn on Hickory Lane. He sailed out the gate, turned onto the highway and disappeared into the night. “Ready now?” I asked.

  “One more smoke.”

  I had fallen asleep by the time Lonnie crawled into bed beside me. I stirred, cuddled up to his big muscular body and went back to sleep.

  Sometime closer to morning, although still pitch dark, rolling thunder woke me out of a deep sleep. Lightning strikes that seemed close by kept me awake and
then a hard driving rain began to fall. I shivered as I slipped out of bed to close the windows. When I reached up to pull the drapes across the big picture window at the front of the trailer I stepped back and sucked in a breath. Rob’s Harley was parked in the driveway and he was sitting on it in the pouring rain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I LEFT LONNIE sleeping as I slipped out of bed early to shower and dress. He had been up a good part of the night doing whatever jealous thinking he was doing instead of making love to me. I was disappointed, but not angry. He was working through something and because I loved him with all my heart, I was willing to give him some time. A knock on the door startled me and incited Ted into a barking frenzy. My coffee slopped over the rim of my mug and burned my hand. “Ouch,” I said out loud. I set my mug down and pulled Ted away from the door.

  Rob wouldn’t come to the door when Lonnie was in my trailer. Would he?

  “Detective Spangler, come in.” I spoke in a low voice. “Lonnie’s sleeping. Please sit down and I’ll get you a coffee.” The detective was dressed smartly in a black pant suit, her blonde hair pulled back in a tortoise shell clip.

  “Thank you, Miss Whitmarsh.” She sat in the living room in the navy-blue velvet chair that matched the sofa and pulled out her notebook.

  I placed the coffee tray on the table and sat down.

  “Thank you. I could certainly use a coffee this morning.”

  “Is this about what’s going on at Mr. Plimpton’s place?”

  “Yes, it is. I understand from Mr. Campbell that your dog got away from you and started digging behind Mr. Plimpton’s greenhouse?”

  “That’s right. Yesterday, he chased Mrs. Mancuso’s cat, and Lonnie and I ran after him all the way to the end of the street. When we got to Edgar’s property, Ted was digging a huge hole behind the greenhouse. Lonnie offered to fill it in but Edgar got all mad at us and told us to get Ted off his property. Lonnie clipped the leash on and we walked home.”

  “You didn’t see what Ted was after in the hole?”

  “No, we came home. When we came back from dinner last night, all the police vehicles were at the end of the street and the yellow tape was up.”