by Deany Ray
Rosalie was in the kitchen, pushing a mop across the floor and looking quite perplexed. “Becky, would you look at this? I’m pushing down with all my might, and this floor is every bit as dirty as it was before.”
I frowned. Rosalie got the prize for the world’s worst (but cutest!) maid. “Well, you need some water and floor cleaner. But first you need to sweep.” I handed her a broom, then looked around the room. “If you call your business Dirt Be Gone, I hope you travel with a dustpan.”
“This is way too complicated.” She began to sweep, then stared down at the debris that had collected in small piles. “That is just disgusting.”
Gerry made a game of sticking his nose into all the messes Rosalie had just swept up.
I let him out the back door. “Go find some sticks. Explore!” I said. It was very fortunate that Ruth had a backyard with a fence. And she appeared to be quite the gardener. Apparently, she paid more attention to her flowers and tomatoes than she did her house.
“You know,” I said to Rosalie. “We need to concentrate on the search for clues. That’s the reason that we’re here. We can straighten up a little, sweep the floor and do some dusting. But we don’t have time to make it perfect. We can’t go all Martha Stewart. We’ve got a crime to solve.”
“Oh, but we have to make the place look welcoming at least. Or that would just be mean! For her to come back to a dirty house. First, her husband up and dies. And then she finds her special gift was really kind of lousy.”
“But at least she’d have the manicure. We bought her a manicure!”
“We should make the beds at least. And do something with this floor.” She jumped back from the dirt as if it might fly right up and bite her. “But eww! Nasty, nasty, nasty.” Then she caught her breath. “We have to catch the killer. But Ruth has had a hard time. We also have a chance to do something really nice.”
“Something nice – and quick.” I headed into the living room and began to dust the top of the piano. It was covered in framed photos. “Hey! Rosalie, come here,” I yelled. I’d noticed something strange. Some of the pictures had been turned over as if Ruth no longer wanted to see the smiling faces in the frames: she and Harry at the beach, posing for a formal portrait, holding up a plaque at his retirement dinner.
“Very odd,” said Rosalie. “But she left some of them face up.”
“Yeah. The ones without him in it.”
“I bet the pictures make her sad.” Rosalie looked almost tearful.
That’s when I noticed it: another frame had fallen on the floor. I picked it up. Someone had taken a marker and drawn a red and angry X across Harry’s beaming face.
We’d asked ourselves this whole time: who might be mad at Harry? Could the answer have been Ruth?
“Rosalie! Look at this.” I handed her the picture.
She stared down at it in her hand. “Do you think that it was her? That she was Harry’s killer?” She paused. “But there’s just no way! There’s no way that she did that. Not to her own husband.”
I paused. “There were those late nights at the bar.”
“That’s a reason to have a big, long talk. But not to kill the guy.” She thought about it for a moment. “Let’s keep on looking through this stuff. Maybe there’s another clue under all this dust.” She moved across the room to look through a pile of papers stacked high on a desk. “Hey, look! She kept a planner. Lots of times on CSI, they find the answer right there. Who did the suspect meet with right before the murder? Where did they go, who did they see?”
“You look through the planner,” I said. “I’ll check the desk drawers.”
We worked in silence for a while.
“Becky?” Rosalie asked after spending some time flipping through the big black book where Ruth wrote all of her appointments. “When were Ruth and Harry supposed to head out on their trip?”
“Houston told me it was soon. I think they were already halfway packed on the night that Harry died.”
“But it doesn’t look like Ruth had any plans to be away.” Rosalie handed me the book. The next few months were full with reminders and medical appointments. She’d jotted down notes to pay the electric bill and write a check to pay for cable.
“You don’t pay for lights and TV once you no longer own a house,” I said.
A chill ran up and down my chest. “I think we know who did it now. Let’s keep trying to find something that will tell us why.”
I looked through a pile beside Ruth’s bed which contained mostly paperback romances whose covers featured close ups of shirtless, muscled men. On the bookshelf were more messy piles: women’s magazines, stacks of old seed packets, envelopes with long expired coupons for groceries and makeup. When I was about to give up on finding anything at all that would point us to an answer, I came across a yellowed clipping from the Ouna Bay Gazette. It was stuffed into the back of a magazine as if she’d tried to keep it hidden.
The headline caught my eye. No Trace of Missing Woman. Police Suspect Foul Play.
Looking out from a blurry photo was an attractive dark-haired woman in a wide-brimmed hat. Beneath the picture was a name: Louise Parkington.
Rosalie burst in. “How’s it going, hon? Once they get her color on, our time clock will start ticking.” She looked thoughtful. “Of course, that woman had some damaged hair. Bad hair could buy us extra hours.”
“Check this out. Could this be our motive? Although it was so long ago.” I handed her the paper. Since it had grown fragile with age, I handled it carefully. Together we scanned the story. Louise had been a well-loved, longtime employee of Townsend’s Department Store. She’d left behind her purse with her credit cards and driver’s license; her bank account had not been touched. So the police felt like she had surely met a bad end and not simply left Ouna Bay to start a brand new life.
Rosalie looked sad. “I was hoping she had run off to somewhere gorgeous and exotic. To try to soothe her broken heart.” She looked at the woman’s picture. “I think it’s so romantic that he saved this all these years. It must have been true love! Except I can’t believe the true love in this story was really Harry Willis.”
“This was years and years ago. Harry might have been a looker in 1985. But I think that Ruth might have been the one who kept it. I found it with her things.”
“So she knew all along…”
I shrugged. “I guess. There must have been a reason for her to want to keep the story all this time. But still. Most men who have affairs don’t get murdered by their wives. What would make her do it?”
Just then we heard a voice outside and a string of barks from Gerry.
Rosalie looked shocked. “No way could they be finished with a manicure and a shampoo plus a cut and color.” She gave me a proud smile. “I know my haircare, baby!”
Warily, I looked out the bedroom window. “It’s not Ruth,” I said.
Someone was kneeling by the tomatoes with a watering hose. When he looked up, I recognized the face. We were both shocked to see each other. Then he glared at me.
“It’s the kid from the pet supply store,” I whispered to Rosalie. “I guess he works for Ruth, doing stuff around the yard.” And I suddenly felt scared. Given that it might have been this very kid who’d bought the murder weapon, I felt an urgent need to high tail it out of there. Had he and Ruth been working together to do poor Harry in?
“The kid gave me an evil look,” I said to Rosalie. “Let’s just leave, okay?”
She looked around the room. “Well, we didn’t do much cleaning. But this is feeling kind of creepy. Oh, hon, I think you’re right. Let’s one-two-three, skedaddle.”
Outside, we merrily waved at Nolan as if we were just a cleaning crew leaving for another job.
“Hey! You’re from that cupcake shop. What are you doing here?” In his face was a mixture of anger and fear. Like maybe he knew the gig was up – both for him and Ruth.
I quickly called for Gerry.
“Oh, don’t tell me this,” I said. T
he dog had been very busy digging holes across Ruth’s yard.
Rosalie shook her head. “I should have thought of that. He does like to dig.”
“Well, no time to clean the yard up now,” I said. “Gerry! Come. Right now!”
The dog joyfully ran to me with a big stick in his mouth.
And that’s when things got worse. Nolan was walking toward me too. And by the looks of it, he held a knife in his hand. At the same time, I noticed that Gerry’s stick was not a stick at all. What on earth? Was that…? It couldn’t be! Oh my, it could. He had dug up a bone: a very, very long one. It didn’t look like it could have come from a small animal. As the Biology Student of the Year from a long, long time ago, I thought that it kind of looked like – could it really be? – kind of like a human bone.
But there was no time to ponder.
“We were just cleaning up a bit for Ruth,” I said to Nolan, trying to make my voice seem calm, as if he wasn’t pointing a knife right at me while Gerry nudged me with a bone.
Then we all turned toward the sound of tires on gravel as an old Chevrolet appeared at the top of the drive.
“Just damn,” Rosalie said.
Gerry lay the bone in front me. He wanted to play fetch. Great. Didn’t the dog know how serious the situation was? Without thinking any further, I grabbed Rosalie’s arm and we ran for her car, passing Ruth who looked more confused than before. I’d barely gotten Gerry into the car and slammed the door shut when Rosalie laid down on the gas and shot out of the drive. My heart was beating so fast, I thought it would break out of my ribcage. Rosalie had to swing wide into the yard and over the tomato plants in order to miss a collision with a startled – and newly blonde – Ruth Willis.
As soon as I caught my breath, I called Houston on my cell.
“Hey babe!” he said. “What’s new?”
Where to even start? I began with one word. “Help! And by the way, we solved the murder.”
Chapter Twelve
Houston mainly listened, interjecting a few words of his own.
You were where?
You’re kidding, right?
What do you mean, a maid?
Soon he grew alarmed. And I hadn’t even gotten to the part about Nolan and the knife. Or Gerry and the bone. When I did get to the scene out in the driveway, his voice took on an urgent tone. “Did Nolan follow you? Or Ruth?”
“I don’t think they did.” I turned in my seat to check. “They’re not anywhere around.”
“Go straight to the police.” I could tell that Houston was trying to keep calm. “I’m gonna meet you there. You need to tell them what you told me. But, hey! This is important. Wait for me. Don’t say a word. To anyone. Not unless I’m there.”
“That’s what you say to suspects. We just solved the case.”
“Just do it, Becky. Gotta go.”
I told Rosalie to change direction and point the car toward town, keeping a constant eye out for any car that might have Nolan behind the wheel.
“Well, I think we broke this case wide open, hon,” Rosalie called as she took a curve.
“I don’t think I want to be a detective anymore.”
My heart would not stop racing.
I could see Houston’s car when we pulled up to the station. He must have driven way too fast, which I’d never seen him do. We met him in the lobby.
“I’ve been talking to the chief,” he said. “He’s already got a big crew on the scene at Ruth’s. They’re gonna talk to you in separate rooms. To make sure your stories match. I don’t think that you’re in trouble. But I think the best thing is for you each to have a lawyer.”
“Why do I need a lawyer? They’re gonna figure out real soon that Ruth and Nolan did it. And as stupid as we were to go over to Ruth’s house, we just did them a favor. We just solved their case.”
“I know, Becky.” He looked tired. “It’s only a precaution. But it’s what you need to do.”
I looked at my best friend, whose hot pink dress was stained with dirt and Dust and Shine. She was hanging on to the anxious dog who was sniffing Houston’s heels. “So we need another lawyer. Can you call someone for her?”
“Already taken care of.”
The door of the ladies’ room swung open, and I heard a most unwelcome voice. “Since Houston’s such a sweet, sweet man, I told him I would come.” Briana linked her arm through his. “When he looks at me with those gorgeous eyes, this girl says yes, yes, yes to whatever Houston wants.”
Could the day get any worse? Had Rosalie taken a wrong turn and driven us to hell?
He removed his arm from hers. “We were working together in my office when I got your call. And I knew you each would need a lawyer. Rosalie, I think that everything is fine. But Briana will stay right with you. And if she doesn’t like the questions, there’s a chance that she may tell you to stop the interview. What you need to remember is this…”
“Don’t tell me! Let me say it.” Rosalie chimed in as if she were a student who’d been called upon in class. “I have the right to remain silent,” she recited proudly. “Anything I say may be held against me in a court of law.”
“Well, isn’t she the smart one? Give the girl a law degree.” Briana rolled her eyes at Houston. Then she glanced once more at her client. “Hey, you look familiar. Have we ever met?”
Rosalie turned red. I suddenly remembered the last time she’d come face to face with this witchy lawyer in designer heels. Luckily, Rosalie had been wearing dark glasses and the black coat at the time. And apparently Briana didn’t remember that she saw Rosalie once in the café. Quite a keen eye for detail Briana has.
Rosalie gave Briana a worried frown. “I think I’ve seen you…around town.”
Then I had an awful thought. What if something tipped Briana off? Rosalie’s hair, perhaps. Her voice. Would Briana recognize her as the one who spilled the beer on her dress the night at the Moonlite? Would she see this as the chance for her ultimate revenge? Use her lawyerly skills to somehow get her client put away? This could get really bad.
Soon I was seated at a table with the chief of the Ouna Bay Police whose secretary had agreed to keep an eye on Gerry.
Having heard all my news from Houston, the chief was not surprised by anything I said. But he asked lots of questions. What time had we arrived at Ruth’s? Where exactly was the planner found? Could Gerry have escaped the fence and brought the bone from somewhere else?
“No, the yard was all fenced in,” I said. “He didn’t leave the property. The bone. Do you happen to know yet what kind of bone it was?”
He frowned. “We think it might be human. We’ll send it off for testing.” Something seized up in my chest.
The chief gave me a hard look. “You may have helped us solve this case – and wrap up an old one too. Two crimes solved in one fell swoop. But you could have gotten badly hurt, you and Rosalie. Getting mixed up in a murder is not for amateurs. Heck, sometimes it scares me to come in and work this job.”
Since my insides were already all torn up, why not just come right out and ask? “Are we in some kind of trouble?”
His voice was gentle now. “Well, I guess you understand that you had no right to go into that home under false pretenses. But you didn’t take a thing.” He chuckled. “Instead, you mopped up the floor. I hear you even dusted! And you presented the occupant with a prize package fit for the Queen of England.”
Houston spoke up then. “You won’t find her doing this kind of thing again. I can guarantee it.”
“I won’t. I am so very sorry.” I looked down at my boots.
“Well, I, for one, am not.” The chief leaned back in his chair. “You two crazy girls turned out to be my best detectives.”
“Do you have a theory? About Ruth? And why? And about the bone?”
“They’re talking to Ruth now. And they’re talking to the kid. We’ll have our answers soon, I think. Then we can make arrests and wrap this whole thing up.”
***
L
ater, we were seated on my back porch with two bottles of my favorite wine. Houston had dropped Briana off, then come over to my place to debrief with his favorite troublemakers.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I snuggled into his chest, finally relaxed. “But did you have to bring Briana? What is up with her?”
“I swear that girl is crazy!” Rosalie poured herself another glass. “But she’s got some lawyer skills. She looked after me in there.”
“And nothing that you two do is remotely crazy.” Houston gave her a teasing look. “Briana’s smart; I’ll give her that,” he said. “But I think her time is up here. I don’t think the girl will be around for very long.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked. As if it was nothing much to me.
“Well, as I guess you noticed, she kind of likes to flirt.”
Rosalie rolled her eyes. “A little bit, I think.”
Houston smiled. “She is a little much. I tried to shrug it off. But Archer let it go too far.” He frowned. “It’s caused some trouble with his wife. So he told Briana she’d have to cut it out. And she didn’t take that well.”
“So it’s bye, bye Briana.” I picked up my wine glass and wondered if Houston knew that his boss had spent time with Briana at the Moonlite.
“Yeah, she’s turned in her notice. I think she just wants to find a guy to foot the bill for her expensive shopping trips. And she didn’t find him here.”
I leaned in for a kiss. “Cause this guy right here is taken.” I put my head on his shoulder and watched the sky, feeling a sudden stab of melancholy. Had Harry been hopeful that his new life back then with Louise might bring a kind of peace?
Then we caught sight of Dwight making his way across the yard in slow, long-legged strides. Rosalie had texted him to meet us here when he got off from work.
She ran out to meet him, then linked her arm through his as they made their way back to the porch. “And here’s my man with news. Fresh from the scene of Ouna Bay’s most notorious crime.”
She hadn’t had time to fill Dwight in on what we’d done that day. He had no idea that it had, in fact, been me and Rosalie who’d set the ball in motion for that day’s flurry of activity. At least I hoped that was the case. But now I wasn’t sure. What had the officers been told? I hated to think that every officer in town knew about my escapades. How would I look them in the eye when they came in for their coffee?