Deadly Neighbors (A River Valley Mystery)

by Cynthia Hickey

  She burst through the door. “I didn’t raise you to be rude, Marsha.” Although she apparently didn’t believe my story of being ill, she felt my forehead. Mom’s hands were always cool and soothing. “We had guests downstairs. Duane and Bruce don’t deserve for you two to run out on them.” She glanced at Lindsey and her voice rose to a screech. “And where, young lady, did you get those?”

  Lindsey sighed before going into her spiel. Then, her eyes filled with tears. “Why do y’all automatically suspect the worst?”

  “Oh, honey.” Mom plopped on the other side of the mattress. “Things are disappearing in this town and people are getting upset.” She patted Lindsey’s hand. “I know you aren’t a thief. But somebody thinks you are.”

  Didn’t my own mother question Lindsey’s whereabouts earlier? I did. I needed my M&M’s.

  “Well, we’ll just start sticking closer to home at night.” Mom stood. “We won’t give anyone anything to talk about. There’s a thief wandering around town. Marsha, let’s snoop around at church tomorrow. Since it will be daylight, we won’t seem suspicious then. See what we can dig up.”

  “I was going to get caught up on work.” Didn’t she realize all the robberies had taken place during the day?

  “You use that excuse every week, and you haven’t missed a service yet.”

  “I can keep trying.” It wasn’t that I disliked church, it was that Stephanie Jackson never failed to try and talk me into joining the women’s ministry. Or I stayed wrapped up in my own thoughts. Now with Sharon’s beef, all eyes would be on me. Unless I could discover the real culprit before then. I glanced at my watch. Eight thirty. Plenty of time to wander the town’s streets without looking suspicious.

  “Good night. Going to bed.” I kissed my daughter, hugged my mother, and forced myself not to dash to my room. Mom would know for sure I had something up my sleeve if I ran.

  I closed my bedroom door with as much care as possible, grabbed a small shoulder bag from the closet, stuffed a hidden bag of candy into it, then headed for the window. Not having snuck out this way in many years, the ground looked a lot farther away than it had when I was a teenager. I slipped my arm through the bag and eased open the window.

  Lifting my leg over the ledge, I reached for the wooden trellis covered with climbing roses. I should’ve worn gloves. Inch by prickly inch, I worked my way to the ground. When I reached the half-way mark, I glanced over to see my daughter going hand over hand down a drain pipe, looking all the world like a monkey. Or a cat burglar. “Hey!”

  She shrieked and lost her grip, to dangle from one hand. A swing back and forth and she retained her grip. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m asking you the same question.” We hung there like a couple of apes. My thigh muscles quivered, threatening to deposit me not very gently on the ground below.

  “You first.” Lindsey jutted her chin.

  “I’m the mother, you first.”

  “And I’m the grandmother. Seniority rules.” Mom stood below us, fists planted on her hips. “The two of you make enough noise to wake someone on Mars. Get down here.”

  Good grief. My hands slipped, and I bounced my way down the trellis, landing in a heap at my mother’s feet. Lindsey bounded the last foot and skipped to where I lay. She offered me a hand up. I got to my feet and prepared myself to face my mother’s wrath.

  “I’m waiting.” She tapped a foot.

  “I decided to go to town and snoop around.”

  “Me too,” Lindsey added.

  “I thought if I stayed hidden but with my wits about me, I could discover who the thief is.” She couldn’t fault me for good intentions, could she?

  “Me too!” Lindsey held up a hand for a high-five which I returned with enthusiasm.

  “Neither one of you have any wits at all. The best place to find a thief is out in the open. Everyone knows that.” Mom dug her car keys from her pocket. “We’ll all go. Duane and Bruce left, with a warning for us to let things be, by the way. We should probably listen. But, being Calloway, we won’t.”

  My mouth fell open. I snapped it closed as she marched toward the driveway. “You didn’t hear us, did you? You saw us when you came out, right?” No lights flicked on in neighboring houses. No one shouted out their doors to hold down the noise.

  She shrugged. “Y’all were still noisy.”

  “It would be sneakier if we walked.” I put a hand on the car door.

  “But my corns won’t take it.” Mom slid behind the wheel of her mile-long, white Cadillac.

  “This car glows in the dark. We’ll be spotted a mile away. Why don’t you put on those special shoes you bought so you can walk?”

  “They make me feel like I’m walking on the moon.” Mom slid back out. “But, I see your point. Be right back.”

  As soon as she disappeared into the house, I glanced at Lindsey, she smiled, then we dashed across the street, behind the houses, and emerged on Main Street. My heart gave a momentary twinge of guilt at ditching my mother, but I forgot it as soon as I spotted Melvin and Kyle Anderson standing in front of Wanda’s Cafe. Wanda tried to name it something fancy, but most people called it a diner.

  The two men laughed at something Melvin said. Kyle didn’t seem too broken up over his sister’s disappearance. Did the fact she turned up missing have anything to do with the items that were unaccounted for?

  I grabbed Lindsey’s arm. “Come on. We’ll hide behind the cow and eavesdrop.”

  Wanda’s Cafe proudly displayed a massive plaster cow, complete with horns, in a position of honor next to the street. The legs were big enough around for me to hide behind one and Lindsey the other. I glanced at Lindsey. “Can you hear anything?”

  She shook her head. “We need to get closer. Grandma said to hide in plain sight, after all.” She hitched up her backpack, and stepped out, whistling a tune from a Saturday morning cartoon. When she reached the men, she stopped. “Hello. Oh, look, I’ve got gum on my shoe.” Lindsey kneeled. I rolled my eyes at her attempt at subtlety.

  The men spared her a glance and went back to talking. I gnawed the inside of my cheek. I couldn’t hear a thing they were saying. I started to move out, and Lindsey waved at me to stop.

  After what seemed like hours, the men moved on, just as Mom’s giant of a car pulled into the parking lot. She stopped close enough to where I stood that she almost pinned me to the giant bovine. “That was mean.”

  Lindsey dashed up to us. “Wait until you hear. Hi, Grandma.”

  “Don’t hi, grandma me. I have an urge to leave the two of you here and do my own investigating. Get in the car.”

  One thing I’ve learned in my thirty-four years of life was not to argue with my mother when she had her dander up. We followed her orders. Mom turned around and speared Lindsey with a glance. “What did you find out?”

  “Well.” Lindsey leaned her arms across the back of the front seat. “Seems when Mr. Anderson’s sister disappeared, or left, no one seems to know for sure, she took money from his safe.” She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “He’s angry because he planned on using the money to put an addition on his house. Now he has to come up with the money all over again and the contractors have already been hired.”

  “Good job!” We high-fived. Could Karen Anderson be our thief? She moved to the top of my not yet written list of suspects. Her brother became number two.

  “Okay. Put your seatbelt on.” Mom placed both hands on the steering wheel. “Where to now?”

  “Well.” I stared out the window. Sharon is missing a necklace. Melvin a wallet. Kyle a sister and cash. Us, cash. Three out of the four crimes took place on Mountain View Road. Seemed as good a place as any. “Go to Mountain View.”

  “Okey dokey.” Mom turned the wheel and stepped on the gas hard enough to throw me against the door. “I said put on your seatbelts.”

  “A little discretion might be in order here, Mom.” I clicked the belt across me.

  “We are on a spying trip.�
�

  Chapter Nine

  When we passed Sharon’s house, I ducked, leaving only my eyes and the top of my head visible. Mom snorted. Lindsey giggled. Despite feeling foolish, and with Sharon having a restraining order against me, hiding seemed safer.

  No lights shone from Sharon’s house. Her neighbor, Harvey watered a profusion of flowers in terra cotta pots. Melvin marched up Sharon’s driveway, dragging his lawnmower behind him, and a German Shepherd practically dragged Marilyn down the sidewalk. An elderly couple strolled, hand-in-hand, creating a sense of nostalgia to the scene.

  “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary,” Mom said as we reached the end of the street and she swung the boat of an automobile around.

  “If we drive back the same way, people are going to be suspicious,” Lindsey spoke up from the backseat. “This car isn’t exactly invisible.”

  “Stop.” I popped up in the seat. “Look.”

  A delivery man peered in Sharon’s windows as he made his way around the house. Before too much time passed, he was back in front, ringing the doorbell.

  “It’s kind of late for a delivery, isn’t it?” Mom stopped the car on the opposite side of the street.

  “Doesn’t the woman ever lock her door? He’s going in.” I bet she wouldn’t put a restraining order against him.

  “Should I call the cops?” Mom leaned for a better look.

  “I don’t know.”

  The man burst back outside and lost his dinner in the rose bushes. He sagged against the porch railing and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  I shoved open my door. “I think you’d better.” I rushed to the man’s side, narrowly being hit by an ice cream truck in my effort to be helpful. Didn’t those things have one speed? Slow?

  Before I’d opened my mouth to inquire to the man’s welfare, he gagged again and pointed to the open front door. The voices in my head warned me not to go inside. Since when did I listen? I straightened and took that first step, then another and reached for the knob. The hair on my arms rose, the voices screamed to get away while I still could, and the man behind me stumbled off the porch.

  I glanced over my shoulder to where Mom and Lindsey rushed to join me. “Stay here, you two. Don’t follow me.” Bravery wasn’t a normal part of my DNA, but I was determined to prevail. Fear swirled in my stomach. Whatever awaited me inside Sharon’s house, I didn’t want my mother and daughter to witness.

  Surprised that they actually followed my order, I stepped into the dark foyer. A small ray of light came from a room to my right, casting more shadows rather than illuminating the space. “Sharon?” I waited to see whether she’d come brandishing another candlestick. “Kitty kitty?”

  The house seemed to breathe. The silence grew in intensity. Air rushed through the foyer, ruffling my hair and assaulting my nostrils. I sniffed. A strong metallic odor over-powered the previous scent of rose scented room freshener. I knew I shouldn’t go any further, but I went. Three more steps into the shadows and my foot bumped into something. I glanced down, gasped, shuffled backwards, fell, and landed on my rump. I choked down the acid rising in my throat.

  Sharon Weiss lay at my feet, gowned in a negligee and robe of black silk. Blood pooled beneath her from a deep gash in her forehead. Even being a non-expert at judging death, I could tell she’d been here a while. The crimson stickiness close to my feet testified to that fact. It had congealed to the appearance of syrup. Ebony syrup in the almost absence of light.

  “Mom, have you called the police yet?” I crab-walked backwards. Not until I reached the porch did I remember the restraining order and the fact I wasn’t allowed in Sharon’s house.

  I sat on the front porch, head in my hands, until the police arrived with sirens wailing. The poor delivery man chose to stay as far away from the house as he could without leaving the scene. His forehead rested on the steering wheel of his truck. Mom paced the front stoop. Lindsey twirled her hair, obviously confused about what was going on because I hadn’t spoken a word since coming outside

  I raised my head when the police cruiser wailed to a stop in front of the house. Bruce climbed from behind the wheel of his squad car. Another officer slid from the passenger side. They both barely spared me a glance before marching into the house. Bruce returned almost instantly.

  “You went inside?”

  “No.” I shook my head with enough force to send my hair flying from its already loose holder.

  He pointed at my pants. “Then why do you have blood on your jeans?”

  “Eew!” I jumped off, slapping at my leg. “Get it off!”

  “It isn’t a bug you can knock off.” Bruce placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll ask you again. Did you go in the house?”

  “Yes.” I took a deep shuddering breath. “But it won’t happen again. I promise. Lesson learned. What if she would’ve needed my help? It was the most horrifying experience of my life. ”

  Mom stepped up. “Clearly, Marsha does not have full control of her faculties. I’ll explain what happened.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Aren’t you going to write this down?”

  Bruce whipped a pen and notebook from his pocket. “Go on.”

  “We were cruising the street when we saw the delivery guy…why would someone be delivering at this time of the night? Anyway, he stepped inside because the door swung open, then he rushed back out and tossed his cookies in the bushes, if you know what I mean.” Mom crossed her arms. “Marsha went to offer aid to the man. He pointed for her to go in. I saw everything. So, being Marsha, she did. Go in, I mean. Then she rushed out. I haven’t been inside, and my daughter isn’t talking, so I have no idea what’s in there. I’d like to, though. Can you tell me?”

  “Sharon Weiss is dead.”

  “Oh, my.” Mom unfolded her arms and raised a hand to her throat. “Are you sure?”

  “Yep.” Bruce snapped his notebook closed. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to question the driver. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Are we suspects?” Mom plopped on the step next to me.

  Bruce waved a hand over his head and continued toward the street.

  “Wow. Now it’s murder.” Mom’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  I turned to face her. “What makes you think the thief killed her? You don’t even know how she died.”

  “Tell me.”

  “She has a head wound. There’s a lot of blood.” I gnawed my lip and forced the gruesome picture from my mind. Instead, I dug around in the faulty computer inside my head and searched for other images. Things I may not have recalled after catching sight of the scantily clad Sharon.

  There’d been no sight of the cat I’d seen the last time. The lamp on the foyer table had been knocked over. . . “I think she hit her head on a table.”

  “Any sign of a struggle?”

  “Not that I could tell.”

  Lindsey peered inside the door until the other officer ordered her out. “They’ve got the lights on now. Gross. There’s blood on the corner of the table.”

  Mom nodded. “Accidental death. I guarantee it.” She exhaled loudly. “Not murder, then. That’s good.”

  I rested my forehead on my knees. “I’m in so much trouble. I’m not allowed anywhere near her, and I went inside.”

  “She’s not going to be able to press charges.” Mom rose. “I’m going to find out what that driver has to say.” She marched over and stopped beside the growing crowd of onlookers until Bruce finished his questioning. Then she rushed forward like a dog after peanut butter.

  Bruce glanced back. “Get away from there, Gertie.”

  She grinned and dashed as quick as her plump body and stiff joints would allow, back to where I sat. “He’s delivering a registered letter that he forgot to earlier today. Since Sharon lived on his way home, he thought he would take care of it now rather than in the morning. Lucky man. Wrong place at the wrong time. He still looks green.”

  “I can’t say I blame him.” My stomach churned too.

  We sa
t there until they asked us to move in order to wheel Sharon’s body away on a gurney, complete with zippered black bag. In spite of our differences, tears welled in my eyes. What were the chances? You’re enjoying a quiet evening at home, someone rings the doorbell, you rush to answer it, and bam! You fall, hit your head, and die.

  I straightened. “Mom, why do you think Sharon was in the foyer?”

  “Someone either came to her door, or she heard something.” Mom’s eyes widened. “Our search intensifies. We need to find out who Sharon’s visitor was. Whoever they were had to have witnessed her death. I know it looks accidental, but what if it wasn’t. Something’s rotten in Timbuktu, and I’d like to know what.”

  “Doesn’t mean a thing.” Bruce stood behind us. “Y’all stay out of it.”

  We three Calloway women exchanged glances. Intuition, or voices, take your pick, told me someone witnessed Sharon’s death. I intended to find out who that person was.

  Chapter Ten

  “Do you know what could’ve happened had you gone inside Sharon’s house and been caught by her?” Bruce’s face reddened. “I would’ve had to arrest you. I ought to anyway just to get you off the streets. You’re a menace.”

  I pretended to study my fingernails. “Technically, I haven’t been served yet so I didn’t violate anything.”

  “You, Marsha Steele, have a smart mouth!”

  I choked down words better left unsaid. “Do you think I wouldn’t have chosen being arrested over finding her body?”

  “You have no respect for the law.”

  Maybe it’s the person enforcing the law I didn’t care for. “You have no compassion for a dead person!” By this time, Bruce and I faced each other over his desk, both on our feet, faces inches away from the other, and my hand was curled around a glass paperweight.

  “I dare you to hit me.” Bruce smirked. “Assault a police officer. See what I do.”

  With a shuddering breath, I whirled, tossed the paperweight on the floor, and marched out of his office.

  A while later, I lay staring at the ceiling, a bundle of nerves. The cuckoo clock downstairs sang out two o’clock. I groaned. Experience told me that no matter how much sleep we missed, Mom would still expect us to arrive on time to church. I didn’t think the need to search for a possible witness, or murderer, would trump Sunday morning service. I closed my eyes and prayed for sleep.