The bedroom my aunt had given me was painted a cheery peach color. The bed was a four-poster, already made up. Two windows looked out on the street below. I put my suitcase on the old wooden chair between the windows. A white set of drawers was only steps away. I quickly transferred my stuff to the drawers.
Right before I went to bed, I checked my Drafts folder. No word from Dad yet. This wasn’t unusual. Sometimes he was a few days in responding.
I left him another message. I told him about the new friends I had made. I didn’t tell him about the body. He had enough to worry about.
Here’s the thing. You don’t get to choose your family. My dad has always been good to me. I know he loves me. He may have done something terrible. But he is still my dad, and I love him.
Life shouldn’t be this complicated.
Chapter Six
It was kind of weird waking up to silence. I was used to the constant noise of traffic in the city. And yelling. People yell all the time in New York, at every hour of the day and night. This place was eerie. How could it be so quiet with the windows wide open?
Two texts were waiting for me.
From Tara: All set for Thursday. Pick you up at ten.
From Brent: Do you like fishing? I have Sunday off.
I answered both immediately. Sure and Sure.
Brent wanted me to go fishing with him! How cool was that?
I threw on a T-shirt and jeans and shuffled down the wooden stairs in my slippers.
I got to the bottom and looked around. “Ollie?”
Somewhere not far away, I could hear the thumping of a tail on the planked floor.
Morning light streamed in through the east windows. Dust motes floated in the air. I followed the sound of thumps to the kitchen.
Vern was already there, drinking coffee. Definitely a boyfriend, I thought. Ollie was at Vern’s feet, munching on scraps. We said good morning, and I headed to the cupboard for a coffee mug.
“Worms,” I said out loud. “Where do you get them?” Vern would know.
My aunt looked up, startled. “Oh, Penny. I’m so sorry. You get them from dogs. But they’ve got drugs for that, and they work quickly. Honest.” She looked down at the dog. “Ollie, you naughty boy. We’ll have to get you some medicine too.”
“What?” I said, confused. “No! I mean I need to get some worms.”
Both of them looked at me like I had dropped in from outer space.
Vern started to wheeze. “Must be some weird American thing, Stella.”
Granted, I didn’t know much about fishing. “So you don’t use worms for fishing here?”
Vern chuckled. “Oh! Well, in my opinion, chubs are better for mudfish.”
“Oh, now I get it,” said Aunt Stella, laughing. “Are the boys taking you fishing, Penny?”
“Brent is. On Sunday,” I said. I could feel my face turning red.
“Oh. Well, that’s a few days off,” said my aunt. Her eyes twinkled. “You’re seeing Brent already?”
“We’re trying to see if we can track down Sally Hooke,” I said, desperate to change the subject. Crap! I hadn’t intended to tell them about the investigation.
“Oh, Penny. Do you think that’s wise?” asked my aunt.
“Why not? I think it’s a good idea,” said Vern. “Don’t you want to know who did the deed?”
“Well, it was a long time ago. The murderer is probably dead by now,” said Aunt Stella.
“What murderer?” said a breathy voice.
Two women stood at the entrance to the kitchen. I hadn’t heard them enter the pub. Ollie was happily circling them, like a herding dog.
“We’re talking about a TV show, Dotty. Hello, Jean. Have you met Penny yet?”
A tall hawklike woman stood over me. “Would know you anywhere. You look so much like your aunt. Dotty, doesn’t she look like Stella did when she was younger?”
Dotty lived up to her name, starting with her shoes. Which didn’t match. Her full skirt was a wild paisley print. Topped with one of those unfortunate peasant blouses.
“Oh,” she said in that breathy way. “You’re Penny. Penny.” She looked puzzled. “Like a—what is it, Jean?”
“A coin. A penny,” said Jean.
Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be a lot going on behind Dotty’s pretty brown eyes.
I put out my hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Jean’s grip was strong and firm. Dotty smiled and put her hands behind her back, like a shy child.
Jean turned to Aunt Stella. “What’s this I hear about a body?”
I nearly dropped through the floor.
“Gosh darn, Jean. How’d you hear about that already?” said Vern.
Jean shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Bob’s mom. I came over as soon as I heard.”
“Well, please keep it to yourself,” said Aunt Stella. Her stern face reminded me of a teacher I had in fifth grade. “It had been buried for a long time.”
“At least twenty years,” said Vern. “Shove over, Penny. Make room for these two.”
I’m not sure exactly how it happened. I do remember that Dotty was looking down at the table, not paying much attention to the conversation. Then she suddenly gasped. Her glazed eyes became alive and focused.
“Jean, the body. Do you think—?”
Jean clapped a hand over Dotty’s mouth. “Stop that. We’re not talking about it.” She waited a moment, then dropped her hand.
“But could it be—?”
“No, Dotty,” said Jean firmly. “Don’t say anything.”
Dotty stared at her.
“It’s a secret,” said Jean.
I watched Dotty grapple with that word. “A secret,” she said.
The others nodded and looked relieved. I was still nervous.
Chapter Seven
Jean and Dotty left to go shopping. Aunt Stella didn’t waste any time.
“Hand me your phone,” she said. “I’m going to call Trudy.”
Who’s Trudy?
Vern seemed to hear me and leaped to interpret. “Dr. Fowler’s old receptionist,” Vern explained. “There was only one dentist in town back in those days. We all went to him. Dr. Jennings took over the practice about twenty years ago. Trudy still works there part time.”
Aunt Stella was determinedly punching numbers on the keypad. We all waited.
Her face changed to friendly. “Trudy, hi. It’s Stella. I’ll get to the point quickly, because time is of the essence. Do you still keep old dental records? I mean, of people who died, say, thirty years ago?”
Vern and I leaned forward.
“Yeah…Yeah. Makes sense… Hmmm…” Aunt Stella sat back. “Okay, just a heads-up, hon. Bob will probably be in to ask the same question. Don’t tell him I called, okay?” She looked up and winked at us. “Love to you and the grandkids.”
She clicked off and faced us. “About ten years ago they put all their files on computer. But only the active files, of course. All the dead people were taken out and destroyed.”
Vern snorted.
“All the dead people’s files, I meant.” She glared at Vern. “Jeez. A person can’t say anything around here without some clown twisting it around.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Vern protested.
I didn’t allow myself to get distracted by their banter. “So that means they won’t be able to tell who the…um… dead person is from their teeth,” I said. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.
“Not unless they lived in town and died less than ten years ago. Which leaves out our skeleton,” said Aunt Stella. “Bob is going to be pissed.”
“Now wait,” said Vern. “They might be able to extract DNA from teeth. I’m pretty sure they can.”
“Oh, right,” said Aunt Stella. She seemed to sink a bit in her seat. I watched her closely. It was pretty clear she didn’t want this victim identified. What was she afraid of? I couldn’t believe she’d had anything to do with the murder. I just couldn’t.
“Penny, I want you to come with me,” she said.
“Where are we going? Can we take the dog?”
“No dog. Jean has a cat.”
So we were going to Jean’s house. I followed her to the front door.
Ollie didn’t mind being left behind. He settled down for another nap.
Outside, a stiff breeze was blowing off the river. It made the hot sun bearable.
“I’ve thought about this for a while now,” said Aunt Stella. “We need to warn her. It’s the decent thing to do. But I didn’t want to use a phone, where someone could overhear.”
I had figured as much. But Jean? Aunt Stella suspected Jean had something to do with this?
“Thing is, Jean is vulnerable. Oh, she doesn’t seem like it, with her gruff exterior. That’s just an act. She likes to play the older sister around Dotty Dot. Helps them both feel more secure.”
To our right, the old row housing gave way to detached homes. Aunt Stella turned at the second one and marched up the walkway. I followed obediently, noting the well-kept garden. I always notice flowers. My Italian grandmother had a flower store in New York.
Aunt Stella knocked. Jean opened the door. When she saw Aunt Stella, she smiled.
“Jean, we need to talk to you.”
Maybe it was the tone of my aunt’s voice, but the smile faded. Jean stepped back to let us in.
The house was Victorian, with a small parlor up front. Jean led us into the parlor and motioned for us to sit down.
Bookshelves lined every wall, leaving only the front bay window and fireplace free. The dark stain of the wood carried through to the floor. No rug. Lots of brown. It was all far too gloomy for me.
I looked around for a cat. Guess they didn’t like company.
As Jean waited for us to begin, she regarded us with a stern expression. I noticed her hands were clenched in a tight ball.
“Now prepare yourself, dear. This isn’t pleasant.” Aunt Stella leaned forward. “You know about our little bones-in-the-backyard problem.”
I started to interrupt. She stopped me with her palm up. “No, let me finish, Penny. Thing is, I heard Bob say something about dental records.”
“Holy cow,” said Jean.
She sat very still. I could see she was thinking hard. “So you think—?”
“No, I don’t,” Aunt Stella interrupted. “But it doesn’t matter what I think. I’ve checked with Trudy. They don’t have dental records that go back that far for people who aren’t still patients.”
“Dental records,” said Jean. She looked down at her hands. “You’re thinking it could be Earl.”
“No. I don’t think it’s Earl. The police have a few possibilities, people who disappeared around that time. We can expect them to follow up on all of them. They have to.”
“But they think it could be Earl,” Jean said and then stood up abruptly. “Time for tea.”
She marched out of the room without looking back.
Aunt Stella leaned back with relief. “That went well.”
I stared at her. “Are we speaking the same language?”
“What do you mean?”
“This new definition of the word well,” I said.
Aunt Stella had the grace to smile. “No hysterics. No frantic denials. Jean knows now, so we’ve done our duty. She can deal with the police when they come. I should tell her to find some old clothes of Earl’s, in case they want to do a DNA test.”
“Would she still have them? I mean, it’s been over twenty years.”
“People here don’t throw out good things,” said Aunt Stella. She waved a hand. “This isn’t the city. You live in those small condos, of course you have no room for old things. Our basements are stuffed with things that might be useful to someone someday.”
Jean wasn’t long with the tea tray. She set it down on the worn brown coffee table.
“Stella, one lump for you?” she asked.
“Two,” said Aunt Stella. “You know what I always say. Tea without sugar is vegetable soup.” She winked at me.
“How do you like your tea, Penny?” Jean asked.
“Left in the pot,” I said.
That got a small smile out of her. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I drank a gallon of coffee right before we came. All I need is the bathroom.”
Jean turned and pointed to the stairs. “Up and to the right.”
I found the bathroom no problem. I also found the cat curled up on the bathmat. It lifted its marmalade head and surveyed me briefly. Apparently I was not a threat.
When I returned to the parlor, Jean was just coming up from the basement. She had a red-plaid hunting jacket in her hands. It looked ancient.
“This was Earl’s,” she said to Aunt Stella. “No one’s worn it since.” She shook it to release the dust. It fell from the garment like fake snow in a snow globe, swirling through the air.
Aunt Stella put down her tea cup. “Perfect. Don’t try to clean it in any way. Just have it handy.”
“I’ll put it in the back closet,” said Jean. She disappeared again.
“We should probably leave now,” Aunt Stella said to me. “I don’t want to be here when the cops come. Let’s go out the back way.”
Jean reappeared. We said quick goodbyes and left by the kitchen door. The old sidewalk we followed back to the pub was broken up at random intervals. I had to focus to make sure I didn’t trip.
Aunt Stella was quiet. I wondered what she was thinking about. I know what I was thinking. If the body in the backyard wasn’t Earl, then who was it?
Chapter Eight
“Never underestimate the power of a village grapevine,” said my aunt, hanging up the phone. “That was Bob’s mom, saying the police have just been to Jean’s.”
I had to smile. Aunt Stella had been one step ahead of them.
It was late afternoon now. I’d been thinking about motive.
I locked my hands around the warm mug of coffee. “Aunt Stella, I know you said you don’t think it’s Earl’s skeleton we found. But you still wanted to warn Jean anyway. So why would you think Jean might have killed Earl?” I asked.
Aunt Stella sat back. She frowned. “I don’t know. To get him out of her life?” she replied after a moment.
“But that’s just it. He was getting out of her life. He was running off with Sally. So why kill him? What would she gain from it?”
“Good point,” said Aunt Stella. “They didn’t have much money, those two. So it couldn’t have been for financial reasons.” She paused. “Earl was a loser. I don’t think he ever worked a real job in his whole life.”
“Wow,” I said. I knew all about men who didn’t have real jobs. “So how did they pay their bills?”
“She worked. Had a job in her father’s drugstore.”
That wouldn’t bring in much money. “Did Earl look after the kids?”
My aunt snorted. “Not a chance. Not back then. Jean’s mother looked after the kids. Earl always had these ‘schemes’ going. Oh, he was a dreamer, that one.” Aunt Stella took another mouthful of coffee. “Always had some crazy business idea. He’d talk people into lending him money to get things started. Then he’d lose it all, of course. Eventually he ran out of people to hit up. And that’s when he turned nasty.”
I took a sip from my mug and nodded. I wanted to encourage her to keep talking. This was all so interesting.
“Earl started drinking. Beat Jean up a few times too, although she hid it well. But we knew, Dotty and me. Women who wear long sleeves all the time? It’s to cover up. They grab you here.” She pointed to her upper arm. “It leaves bruises.”
I knew about that too. One of my great-aunts…
I leaned forward. “But that’s what I mean. Jean would have been happy to see him go, wouldn’t she?”
Aunt Stella
fiddled with her coffee mug. “True. If it had been me, I would have been jumping up and down with glee. Hell, I would have packed his bags, filled the car with gas and handed him the keys.”
Silence filled the room.
“So you don’t think it’s Earl’s body?” Aunt Stella finally asked.
“I don’t know. Jean doesn’t seem to have a strong motive. But it still could be him, I guess. Someone else could have killed him,” I said. “Someone he borrowed money from?”
“Maybe we should talk to Vern about it. He’ll be here soon.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Fine with me. But what are you thinking?”
Aunt Stella sighed. “Well, now you’ve got me thinking about who else it could be. Earl isn’t the only man who has gone missing from Mudville in the past forty years.”
I had been waiting for this. “Who else did you have in mind?” I asked.
“It’s tricky,” she said. “But I seem to recall a young man disappearing when I was a teenager. A draft dodger from the Vietnam War. Do you know about the Canada connection?”
I shook my head. I knew about the Vietnam War, of course. We’d learned about it in school.
“Canada probably wasn’t very popular with the American government back then. We decided to open our doors to draft dodgers. It was pretty easy to cross the border in those days. You could do it with a driver’s license.” She paused to sip her drink. “I used to feel sorry for those boys. They weren’t much older than you.”
Suddenly having to leave your country and all of your friends and family? That was something I could totally relate to.
“You think someone may have killed a draft dodger?” I said.
“It’s a possibility,” said Aunt Stella.
The back door of the Dilly opened, then clanked shut. I could see Vern making his way toward us. Ollie leaped up to greet him.
Coming in from the bright sunshine must have temporarily blinded Vern. He paused, squinting. Then his face brightened when he saw us at the kitchen table. Or, rather, when he saw Aunt Stella.
“Shove over, Stell,” he said as greeting.
“Hello to you too,” said Aunt Stella, shaking her head. But she shifted over on the bench to make room for him. “Hey, do you remember when that draft dodger went missing?” she asked him.
The Crime Club Page 3