Fish Tales: The Guppy Anthology

by Budewitz, Leslie

  Elizabeth had come with a purpose in mind. She’d been patient long enough, maybe too long. Now the girl was here and looking very much at home at Josie’s side. If Elizabeth hesitated, she knew the girl would slide right in, snatch the old woman’s attention away from the only family she had left. The conniver would wheedle her way in and send the old woman back into lost days where memories could be manipulated in her favor.

  Not if Elizabeth had anything to say or do about it. And she did. She’d seen to that.

  Josie turned watery blue eyes to her. “I am so glad to see you again so soon. You missed some wonderful fried catfish for dinner last night. Henry promised another treat tonight, but his luck ran out. No fish for dinner for any of us, not for a while. Henry and his wife are going to visit their grandkids for a few days. But I’ve made some shortbread cookies for our afternoon tea. You used to enjoy them as I recall.”

  “That I did. And you shouldn’t be surprised to see me. You know how worried I am about you staying out here in that drafty old house, your nearest neighbor across the lake. That’s why I’m trying to find something you’ll like in town. Much better for all of us.”

  They moved up the wooden steps, through the front door and into the parlor where Josie settled onto the overstuffed chintz sofa.

  “No need to worry, Lizzy, dear. I’ve told you a thousand times.” She raised a finger to silence Elizabeth’s protest. “And I have Sophie here now. She’ll keep me company, for a while at least. I haven’t quite convinced her of the joy of wintering in the Berkshires, but I’m working on it. She’s trying to convince me to take a trip to Florida before we get snowed in.” She grinned in the girl’s direction, winking as she did so. The girl laughed a little too enthusiastically, Elizabeth decided. Who was she trying to impress—Elizabeth or her aunt?

  It looked as if she’d already made progress in whatever her plans were for the old woman. Florida, indeed. Elizabeth was certain of one thing: Sophie was up to no good. She hadn’t trusted the girl since the day she’d stepped off the bus nearly twenty years ago looking like a fish out of water.

  It hadn’t taken the girl long to figure out there was profit in cozying up to the childless couple. Summers in the Berkshires, gifts for birthdays and holidays once she was back in the city. Extras in between. Lots of extras as the years passed. Time and such things that should have been reserved for family. As Josie’s last living relative, Elizabeth had no intention of allowing Sophie to horn in on what was rightfully hers. Now it seemed the time for patience had passed.

  “What shall we do about dinner since Henry left us high and dry?” Sophie asked from her perch on the sofa’s arm. “Do you think there’s enough of that beef stew left in the freezer?”

  “Not enough for a meal for three, I’m afraid. Perhaps I could stretch it with some vegetables. I have a good supply down in the cellar,” Josie said.

  “Let me get them for you,” Sophie offered. “It’ll save you going down those rickety cellar stairs.”

  “Oh, I don’t use those any more, dear. I use the outside stairway. Fewer steps and not quite so steep,” Josie said with a grin.

  “Either way,” Sophie began.

  “Either way,” Elizabeth cut in, “I think I’d prefer a nice steak. Sophie, I have an idea. Would you mind driving down to that store on Route 116—what’s it called, Mason’s? —and picking up what we’ll need? When I stopped for coffee on my way home last week, I noticed they stocked organic beef from a local farm. You could take my car.”

  Sophie glanced in Josie’s direction.

  Josie nodded. “Even at my age, I appreciate a good steak, some nice baked potatoes. They should have some fresh from the Browns’. Yes, do go, dear. It will give Lizzy and me a chance to catch up.”

  “Sounds like we’ve got a plan.” Elizabeth smiled. The country store was a good twenty minutes away. With a big “closed” sign hanging on the front door.

  Elizabeth handed her keys and some cash to the girl, gave her a few instructions on driving a quality vehicle and watched as Sophie drove off in her car. The idea of that girl behind the wheel of her pride and joy didn’t sit easy with Elizabeth but it was a small price to pay to get her out of the way. With any luck, she’d drive on to the next town and the market there. It should be open and have what they needed. Besides, the trip presented Sophie with an opportunity to drive a car she could never hope to afford herself. Why should she resist? And she was trying to curry favor. Do good and she’d expect Elizabeth to buy into her act. As if she’d fall for that routine. She was no foolish old woman vulnerable to the attention of a wily con artist.

  “I put the kettle on,” Josie said. “We could have a chat while we wait for Sophie to get back.”

  “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and let me get the tea? I think I remember where everything is.” Elizabeth didn’t wait for a reply. Before she’d finished speaking, she was half way across the room. Once inside the small kitchen, she rinsed the teapot in hot water from the kettle just as Josie had taught her to do as a child. She topped off the kettle and returned it to the stovetop. From the cupboard she selected Josie’s spicy herbal blend. The pungent flavor was far from her favorite, but it ought to hide any bitterness from the heart medication she’d appropriated from Josie’s medicine cabinet during her last visit.

  Just an accidental overdose by a forgetful old woman. What could be simpler? And if anyone suspected? Well, the girl’s unexpected appearance could work in Elizabeth’s favor. Who had better access to Josie’s medication than her houseguest? And if a couple of the pills happened to be found in the girl’s room along with a valuable broach or ring from Josie’s jewelry case, so much the better.

  Elizabeth carefully emptied the capsules into the tea infuser along with the tea leaves. Finally she emptied the pot, added the tea infuser and poured in hot water from the kettle. While the tea steeped, she gathered the pot, cups, saucers, honey, and a plate of shortbread cookies. That should do it.

  “Here we are.” Elizabeth settled into one of the overstuffed chairs by the sofa. “A lovely pot of tea for us and some time to talk.”

  “What did you want to talk about?” Josie asked as she took a bite from one of the cookies.

  Elizabeth poured a cup of tea and placed it in front of Josie. She poured another for herself, holding it in her lap. “Don’t let it get cold.”

  Josie picked up her cup and took a long sniff. “It smells wonderful.” She thought for a moment then put down the cup. “Do you know what we need? We need some apricot preserves to go with these cookies. It’ll be just the thing.” She began to get up but Elizabeth waved her to stay.

  “Let me get it.” She headed back toward the kitchen. “Which cupboard is it in?”

  Josie got to her feet and followed. “Oh, it’s not up here. I need to go down to the cellar. Oh, I do wish I’d asked Henry to fix those cellar steps this summer. I kept putting it off. He always looked as if he was having such a pleasant time out on the lake. Then his wife had him painting their house and, well, I just put it off so long. Maybe it’s not too late. The snow hasn’t started to fly yet, though heaven knows the nights are cold enough. Soon, though, and I don’t want to be using the outside hatch to get to my stores this winter.”

  “The cellar? Really, Aunt Josie. I’ll never understand how you can store food in a place with a dirt floor and rock walls.”

  Josie smiled. “It’s the best place, really. Even temperature most year round in the root cellar in back. Pretty much the same in the front section if the hatchway is kept closed. ’Course, summer heat and winter cold seep in if it’s left open. And despite what your Uncle Pete said, I don’t think his putting in a concrete floor in front by the hatchway stairs made one bit of difference.”

  This was far more information than Elizabeth cared to know about cellar storage. What she did want was for Josie to sit down and have some tea.

  “We really don’t need any jam with the cookies. Why don’t we just enjoy our
tea?”

  “Nonsense, Lizzy.” Josie grabbed a sweater from the hook by the back door and headed outside.

  When she reached the hatchway, Elizabeth stood watching as the old woman heaved the heavy upper door aside.

  “I won’t be a minute.” Josie stepped gingerly down the stone stairs. She paused at the bottom to flick on the light.

  Elizabeth watched from above as Josie disappeared into the shadows, chattering away about the quality of last summer’s harvest. She soon returned, smiling triumphantly, a jar of something or other in hand. She stopped abruptly at the foot of the stairs. A moment later, she recovered.

  “Oh, my, I seem to have lost my breath. Perhaps you were right, Lizzy, dear, I have been over doing it.” She reached out her hand. “Can you help me?”

  Elizabeth glanced down at the uneven stone steps. Carefully, she stepped over the threshold, one toe into the dimness. Josie took a hesitant step up. Elizabeth took a step down, one hand gripping the edge of the opening. She reached down to Josie.

  “That’s it. You’re doing fine,” she said. “Just another couple of steps. Take my hand and we’ll get you out of there and you can have your tea.”

  Instead of continuing up the stairs, Josie stepped back. Before Elizabeth could react, something pushed at the small of her back. Her fingers slipped from the casing and she lurched forward, landing hard. The air was driven from her lungs and her mouth filled with the taste of dirt and blood. Her cheek was raw against the concrete flooring at the base of the stairs.

  “What—” The word caught in her throat. She tried to pull herself upright. Agony ripped through her. She tried to move her left arm. She couldn’t feel it, yet she could see it twisted at an odd angle. She tried to move again and cried out in pain.

  She focused on the old woman’s shoes as they moved into view.

  “She’s awake,” Josie said, her voice strong and clear. “But it looks like she’s hurt bad. I don’t think we should move her.”

  “Definitely not.” Sophie’s voice came from up above. “Did you think I wouldn’t see through your game, Elizabeth? That Josie wouldn’t notice the missing pills? She thought she might have miscounted, but I thought differently.”

  Elizabeth tried to speak, failed.

  “I bet she’s got those missing pills of yours just waiting for the chance to use them. Maybe right there in her pocket.”

  The old woman’s feet moved back a step.

  “Or in the tea,” Josie whispered. “Is that why you’ve been so accommodating today, Elizabeth?” Her voice cracked. “She kept telling me to have some tea.”

  Elizabeth’s arms and legs grew numb.

  “Let me get you out of here,” Sophie said. “It’s starting to rain and the temperature’s dropping fast. We can leave the hatch open. If her injuries don’t kill her outright, exposure will. Eventually.”

  “It seems a cruel thing to do.” Doubt tinged the old woman’s voice.

  Help me, Elizabeth wanted to plead, but she could only moan.

  “What do you think she would do if it was you lying on the cellar floor?”

  Josie let out a long sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I just don’t like to cause any creature pain.”

  “I know how you feel, but think about Henry’s fish. You sure enjoyed the catfish last night and the fish chowder you made for lunch today. Sometimes someone else does what’s necessary. Sometimes we have to do it for ourselves. This time I’m here to help you. Can you make it up the stairs okay?”

  “I don’t think I can get around her. I’ll use the stairs to the kitchen. I should be fine as long as I watch where I’m going.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will, dear.” The old woman took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Lizzy, would you have pushed me down these stairs when I thought you held out your hand to help? You know there’s more than enough to share when I’m gone. Not that you need any of it. But you wanted it all. You turned against me.”

  Elizabeth tried to focus on the old woman’s words. This was wrong. They should be having tea, the old woman growing sleepy, her breathing labored. Soon Elizabeth would be calling 911 to report . . .

  “Josie? We should get going,” Sophie said.

  “Yes, dear, I know. Lizzy, you wanted my house. Enjoy it while you can. Sophie and I will be heading south a little earlier than we planned. Your Uncle Pete always did enjoy a visit to the Magic Kingdom. I think that will be a fine place for us to begin our winter holiday. Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

  The old woman moved a step closer to the hatchway. “I’ll be just a moment, Sophie. I need to rinse the teapot and get a few things together. Will you put my bag in the car? The keys are on the hook just inside the garage door.”

  The soft padding of the old woman’s footsteps echoed across the dirt floor and up the wooden steps. With the click of a switch, the light blinked out and plunged the cellar into murky gray, the only light seeping in from the hatchway. The sound of footsteps crossed the floor above.

  Elizabeth heard the sound of running water through the pipes followed by the creaking of the back door and a soft thump as it closed overhead. For a time, there was nothing but the beating of her own heart.

  Voices melted down from somewhere beyond the opening at the top of the stairs, moving away from the hatchway toward the garage.

  “It will look like an accident. She came out, expecting to find you, went looking in the cellar and fell.”

  “In a few days I can call Henry and ask him to check on the place while we’re gone. I’ll tell him we forgot to close the hatchway before we left, thinking about the trip and all.”

  Elizabeth heard the Caddy’s engine roar to life and listened as the crunch of its tires on the gravel driveway faded into the silence of the coming night.

  __________

  Deborah J. Benoit is a Master Gardener living in western Massachusetts. When she’s not plotting mysteries, she can be found digging up plots in her garden. Deborah is a member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America and the Short Mystery Fiction Society.

  PALACE ON THE LAKE, by Daryl Wood GErBer

  I sat in the passenger seat of Lucy’s black Honda Civic, binoculars pressed so tightly against my face that I would look like a raccoon in the morning, but I didn’t care. My heart thudded as I peered across the lake and searched for signs of my errant husband at the Polka Palace. I would’ve driven myself, but my prosthetic leg was in the shop for repairs, and hopping along the icy lakefront on one leg would have been a little precarious.

  “Are you sure Edward’s here?” Lucy whispered.

  Did she honestly think anyone other than the two of us could hear? We had the windows rolled up and the lake was empty of swimmers and boaters due to the fact that it was colder outside than a Popsicle in an igloo.

  “He’s here, all right. That’s his Buick in the parking lot.”

  “That low-life.” Lucy’s mouth drew down in a frown.

  My husband, a high school math teacher, had recently taken up ballroom dancing, but not to bone up on counting to three. He was more interested in learning how to two-time.

  “What made you suspicious?” Lucy continued to whisper.

  “I found the dance studio’s business card, a condom, and a little blue pill in his pocket.”

  “A little blue pill?” Lucy sputtered the words.

  “Viagra, darlin’. My silly husband thinks he needs it to be potent. He doesn’t, but he won’t listen to me.”

  “So you still have—” She nodded her head in a leading manner.

  “Of course, we still have s-e-x.”

  “Then why would he be having an affair?”

  “Because he wants more s-e-x.”

  Lucy could be a little prim at times. I never asked, but I was pretty sure she hadn’t dabbled in sex before taking her vows. She adjusted the white bib of her habit.

  “Pull to the side, would you?” I said. The front window, clouding with fog from our conversation, was b
ecoming difficult to see through.

  “You’re not getting out, are you, Eileen?”

  “And risk falling into the lake?” I sniggered. “Nah, I don’t think so. I’d either rust or freeze.”

  “Not funny.”

  A year ago, I had lost my leg, not my sense of humor. In a hit and run at midnight. By a white car that could have been driven by anybody, just not my husband. His Buick LeSabre was cherry red, the only flashy thing about him, and he had been out of town at a math competition. I rolled down my window. “Aha, there he is, doing the mambo with Hot-to-Trot Paula.”

  “Paula Peabody?” Lucy sounded more distressed than me, probably because ours was a small town. We knew everybody in it. Back when Lucy and I were in high school, Paula was the most popular girl with the guys. We knew why. Everybody did.

  “She’s not Edward’s type,” Lucy said.

  “And what type is that, Lucy? Huh? If you were having an affair, wouldn’t you choose the easiest—”

  “Hide!” Lucy slumped in her seat. “Edward’s coming out.”

  I scooched down, the upper rim of the binoculars barely peeking over the door’s rim. My husband stood on the pier, alone, a cigarette glowing in his hand. The Polka Palace owners had taken over the long-abandoned Lake Lodge Inn and reformed it into a wonderland of twinkling lights and music and oom-pah-pah. The twelve cabins went unused. Perhaps the owners intended to utilize them come the summer. Maybe they would consider having a Dirty Dancing retro weekend.

  Edward took a long drag and breathed the smoke out in circles. More than once I joked that he would die from so much smoke ring practice. Nowadays, whenever I said that, he sneered at me. I wasn’t sure why. I had the feeling he couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore because of the one leg thing.