by Sharon Rose
We both watched carefully as Calvin begrudgingly carried one bag after another and put them in the bus. My old English teacher was right. Calvin wasn’t walking normally. What did he have - pebbles in his shoes?
Chapter Fourteen
Flori burst into my shop the next morning. The rain had run its course and the sun was shining. The temperature was moderate and the high was going to be about seventy-three so everyone was smiling. Except for Flori.
“Have you heard the latest, Mabel?” She was dressed in a lovely yellow, orange, green pantsuit with a matching green headband. The top was all flowery and the pants were solid green. Her sleek light auburn hair shone in the sunlight. Her artistically made up eyebrows arched up under her bangs. Obviously, her appearance didn’t match her mood.
“I hope by the look on your face that there’s been no more murders or accidents or anything negative at all. What’s the matter?”
“It’s Bernie.” She burst into tears. I steered her over to the chair and handed her the box of tissues.
“What do you mean? Bernie is dead. What more can happen to him?”
“He’s Jewish, Mabel. That’s what’s wrong.” She moaned, groaned, and blew.
“Flori, since when have you been prejudiced? You’ve never said anything about anyone’s faith or nationality ever in your whole life. After you’ve met someone you don’t even remember if they’re black or white.”
“Oh no, I don’t mean that. How could you even think that? What I mean is, it’s against their faith to have the body mutilated. And, they took Bernie to the city to do an autopsy.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Well, Jake heard some of the men talking at the café. What do you think will happen now, Mabel?”
I poured two cups of coffee, fixed Flori’s up with cream and sugar, and handed it to her.
“I have no idea. Melanie would know what to do. Besides, I don’t think Bernie was a practicing Jew, was he?”
“Practicing Jew? I don’t think you can say that. It’s like saying that I’m a practicing German or American. It’s just who they are.”
“Well, I don’t know about that but anyway, what’s going to happen? Are they going to have a funeral?”
“Ben Jacobson says he’ll have to have this prayer he called it a Kaddish or something. Also, he said his body should be all covered in water to be cleansed and he should be put in white linen clothing before being buried.”
“How does Ben know all this?”
“Well, he really isn’t up on all his Jewish rituals so he looked it up on the Internet.”
“So, who’s going to pray and wash him when he has no family here and his wife is in jail? Besides, everyone thinks that she killed him so they might not think it kosher for her to cleanse his body, right?”
“I know. That’s what’s so upsetting, Mabel. What’s going to happen to Bernie’s body? Jewish people bury their dead within a day or two and there’s poor Bernie’s body way off somewhere in some forensic lab in the city. It’s so mortifying.”
“Well, I know one thing, Flori. It’s not for you or me to decide anything. There’s no point in crying over it, is there? There’s nothing that you can do.”
“I know. I know. The whole thing is very upsetting though.” She wiped away some stray tears and wiped where there were no tears in case she missed a few. “I guess you heard Reg had to call in the city cops.”
“No, I did not hear that. When were you going to share that bit of information?”
Flori blushed. “Well, if you must know, I wanted to talk about the more important things first. I think Bernie’s burial is far more important than who’s getting involved in the murder case.”
“So, if this is an open and shut case with a confession, why bring in the big guns?”
“Oh Mabel, I don’t know. Maybe it’s not as open and shut as Reg thinks. Maybe he was having second thoughts about it all. Remember he is planning to retire soon so perhaps this is just too much for him to handle. Jake says he’s not looking too good - kind of drained and pale.”
I sighed. “I suppose I could give him a call.”
“I suppose you couldn’t. He’ll feel truly embarrassed if he has to ask for your help again. Besides, I think he can handle it without your interference.”
“I don’t interfere and this is not about Reg’s ego; it’s about Melanie’s life. Do you want an innocent woman going to jail just because it might be upsetting to Reg?”
“Well, it’s up to you, Mabel. All I ask is that you don’t involve me. By the way, I think you really enjoyed our little jaunt into the city, didn’t you? I’m quite looking forward to next Friday’s trip, aren’t you?”
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be. By the way, Flori, did you notice how Calvin was walking when he came back to the bus?”
“I never noticed how he was walking before he got on the bus so why should I worry about how he got off? Why are you so concerned about the way Calvin walks?”
“Oh I’m not really all that concerned, just curious, that’s all. Actually, I don’t know how he walked when he got on. Miss MJ asked me to watch, that’s all.”
“Miss MJ? Why in the world would she be worrying about that? She can hardly walk herself. Is that why she was whispering in your ear all the time? I wondered what she was talking about. Who cares how Calvin walks anyway? To tell you the truth, he’s about the last person I worry about. I don’t think he’s a very nice person to hire to take those lovely elderly people to the city. If we hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have even helped them on and off. I think I should get Jake to talk to Mr. Kinney about him.”
“Well, wait until after next Friday. M J is a smart lady and I want to see what Calvin is up to.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Mabel, you missed your calling; you should’ve been born as a bloodhound.”
For some reason, Flori struck her own funny bone and she proceeded to laugh until she completely drained her tear ducts. While she was busy with that I washed out our mugs and put on some fresh coffee.
That evening I would give Sheriff Smee a call. I don’t care what anyone says, when Reg has nowhere else to turn, he turns to Mabel Wickles.
Chapter Fifteen
I tried phoning Reg that night at home but there was no answer and I definitely wasn’t going to call the station. The next day was Saturday, which is my busiest day at the shop. Somehow I would have to figure out how to meet or at least talk to Reg without having to abandon my post. I really need every sale I can make. Flori is always willing to help in time of need but it would depend on the reason. By ten o’clock, I’d seen two unfamiliar patrol cars drive down Main Street so I knew the Parson’s Cove police department was off the case. I couldn’t help but wonder if Captain Maxymowich had taken Sheriff Smee’s place.
It’s embarrassing to say but we’ve had several murders over the past few years in Parson’s Cove. Some residents started to call our quiet little town Murder City. I’m sure there were murders in the past but no one seems to remember any of those. Whoever oversees to make sure justice is done in the land, must’ve thought Reg and his boys needed help so he or she sent out Maxymowich a couple of years ago. He and his crew have returned to Parson’s Cove twice since then.
At first, I can honestly say, I had no use for him at all. Maxymowich, that is. He came across as narrow-minded, cold-hearted, and brusque. I didn’t even like the way he looked with his white hair slicked straight back, his slouch, and his wrinkled navy suit. After he’d solved the crime, however, the Captain came across as a much different person - almost human. Perhaps, a more accurate statement would be ‘after he and I solved the crime.’ He always made a point of coming to my house before leaving town to fill in any details and to sit and have a cup of coffee with me. And, of course, to have his favorite strawberry muffins. I didn’t really mind him coming if he could solve the crime but it would be rather nice if Parson’s Cove could look after and solve its own problems.
<
br /> My morning was busier than my usual Saturdays because Beth Smee and Myra Wakefield decided that they wanted to start up a small intimate book club.
“What we mean,” Myra quietly explained to me. “We don’t want all the women in town joining in. Perhaps, only five or six. Do you think you and Flori would like to join? We’re going to meet at my house every week and talk about the book that we’ve read. Then, we’ll pass the books around for the next week and see what the other person got out of it. I think it will be such fun.” She smiled and winked. “And, of course, there will be wine and cheese. I mean, what’s a club without wine and cheese? Right, Mabel?” Another wink.
It wasn’t my kind of thing. I’m more into reading and drinking my wine curled up in bed all alone. Besides, she probably invited me because I’d be curious about all the books she was buying. However, I thought Flori would enjoy it, especially the wine and cheese part, so I said, “It sounds interesting. It’s something Flori would love. I’m not sure I can make it. It’s almost time for taking inventory but when do you meet?”
Beth said, “We’re going to get together on Monday nights at Myra’s house. Reg is always home that night especially now that Captain Maxymowich is in town, so I want to escape. He’s not the easiest person to live with right now.”
Before I could ask Beth any questions, Myra said, “Since this is sort of a secret club make sure you don’t mention it to anyone, okay, Mabel? Especially Esther. We really don’t want her or Millicent coming and spoiling it for the rest of us.”
“Trust me, Myra, Esther would be the last person I would tell. No, I’ll keep it under my hat. You can ask Flori though - she might like it.”
For the next few minutes, I helped them pick out some of the old classics that I have packed away in the back shelves and some of my favorite mysteries. They left happy and I was happy. I’d not only made a big sale, now I knew when I could catch Reg – Monday evening at home.
It was almost four when Flori burst through the door. She entered like a tornado and I knew from the get-go that something terrible had happened. However, it was difficult to tell if she was angry, sad, or her hemorrhoids were acting up again. Anyway, her face was very red and she’d clenched both of her hands into fists. I bet anyone meeting her on the sidewalk either walked to the other side or started running.
“I can’t believe it, Mabel. Did you hear the latest about Bernie?”
“Now what? The poor man is dead. He apparently didn’t get cleaned up the way he should have and his burial had to wait longer than it should have. What more could happen to the man?”
“The Baptists buried him.”
I wasn’t quite sure how I was supposed to take this. I knew all of Melanie’s family went to the old Baptist church so it wasn’t a really huge shock.
“So? Aren’t you glad that the poor man finally got to rest in peace? What did you want to happen?”
“They buried his ashes, Mabel.” She then burst into tears. I’m sure she’d been saving them up so she could dump all of them on me because there were a lot of them. In between sobs and hiccoughing, she said, “I don’t think Jews are supposed to be cremated.”
“Here, I bought a fresh box of Kleenex just for you.” I took out the little piece of cardboard and handed her the box. “When you’re finished you can explain why this has you so upset and why it’s any of your business.”
Through her sobs and tears, she glared at me. When she finished up she said, “I’ll tell you why I’m so upset - I think it’s terrible that Melanie’s family has taken over and they aren’t even considering his faith.”
“Perhaps, Flori, this was his wish. Perhaps, he had it all outlined in his Last Will and Testimony. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe he converted to the Baptist religion. I’m sure it happens. And, you think this concerns you because…?”
She stopped sniffling and stared at me. I knew she’d have no answer for that.
“Personally, Flori, I think you are just as curious as me and to be honest with you, I don’t think you can mind your own business either.”
As you can imagine, I said this in a very soft loving tone. She says it often enough to me but somehow, I’ve never tried putting it on the other foot. For a brief moment, she was speechless.
She wiped her eyes once more and cleared her throat. “I don’t think you quite understand the situation, Miss Wickles. Melanie’s family is doing this because they hated Bernie. That’s why.”
“Flori, that’s just crazy. There’s no way they would do that for that reason. I’m sure they did it like that because there was no one else to bury him and after all, he is – or was, their son-in-law. Who told you all this nonsense?”
“Denny Wakefield was talking about it at the café. Melanie’s brother, Steven, got into a big fight with Bernie not that long ago. He threatened to punch him in the face if he didn’t stop treating Melanie so bad.” She stopped talking and waited for that information to sink in before she continued, “Were you aware that Bernie used to leave Melanie alone for long periods of time, Mabel? Were you also aware that Melanie was thinking about getting a divorce?”
“No, I can’t say that I was aware of that, Flori. If he was mistreating her, she had motive to kill him but if she was divorcing him, why bother? That wouldn’t make any sense, would it? On the other hand, if Steven hated him, he might very easily have a motive for murdering him.”
Flori smiled. “So, that’s probably the reason why Captain Maxymowich sent Melanie home after the funeral.”
“What? Why are you just telling me this now, Flori? Are you saying that Melanie is back home? Did Maxymowich drop all the charges? And, how long have you known all this?”
“Don’t raise your voice at me, Mabel. The moment I found this out, I rushed right over.” She suddenly burst into another torrent of tears and through them she stammered, “I thought you’d be so pleased.” She blew her nose. “I don’t know why we have all this horrible violence in our town. We never argue about anything except when there’s been a crime committed, did you know that, Mabel?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her we’d argued the night before about when the Post Office had been built. Flori and I argue constantly. Perhaps, it’s done with more passion when someone’s been murdered.
“I’m sorry. I should know you’d come right over to tell me. Did Denny happen to say why Melanie was sent home?”
“Apparently her confession didn’t sound believable. That’s what Denny told Jake anyway.”
“I’m wondering how come Denny knows all this?”
“It’s because Myra and Beth are good friends and I guess Reg told Beth. At least, that’s what I figure.”
“Then Denny tells Jake and Jake tells you.”
Flori beamed through her tears, “And I tell you, Mabel.”
“All right,” I said. “I have to think of what to do next.” I should’ve said this to myself but unfortunately, it was said aloud.
“What you have to do? You don’t have to do anything. How many police officers do you think it takes to solve a murder? The town is brimming with them so I doubt they need any help from you.”
I patted her on the arm. “You’re right, Flori. I don’t know what I was thinking. I happen to find mysteries so intriguing, don’t you?”
“No. I find them very upsetting. By the way, I found something else out. The bus is going to the city on Wednesday. I don’t know why it’s so soon but it’s okay with us, right? I told Mr. Kinney that it was. I’m so looking forward to it, aren’t you?”
Blast! I’d forgotten to ask Delores if she could watch the store on Friday and now, I’d have to ask for Wednesday. I guess deep in my heart I was hoping the whole thing would blow over and I’d get out of going. Oh well, there was always Miss Smith - she and I could watch Calvin and check out his walk. I wouldn’t mind knowing where he disappeared to as well. He was up to something no good.
Flori left for home and a few minutes later, Esther walked in. At leas
t once a week, she does this to me. She comes in at the last minute forcing me to keep the store open and then she leaves without buying anything. It sends me home in a foul mood and she knows it.
Once again, she was in this cheery mood and it was extremely irritating.
Chapter Sixteen
Sunday arrived, bleak and cold. Not like a winter cold but anything less than seventy was beginning to make people shiver. It was a welcome reprieve, however. I opened up all my windows and let every room air out, even my sewing room, which hides my gin cache. About an hour later, it started to rain so I had to close it all up again. By that time, all the cats were sitting on the back step waiting for me to let them in. I wasn’t quite ready for them yet so they sat and complained. About ten-thirty Flori popped in for a cup of coffee. She brought along two cinnamon buns. When Flori brings two buns it might sound like she’s skimping but trust me, she isn’t. Each bun was at least eight inches across and the cream cheese icing was about an inch thick. After eating one of those and drinking three cups of coffee, I didn’t even want to think about eating or drinking for a few days.
“So, what’s on your agenda for today?” she asked, as she wiped icing off her chin. Flori does this with her finger and slides it up into her mouth. She doesn’t waste a drop. Unfortunately, I wasted my dribblings in a paper napkin.
I glanced out the window. The rain had stopped and it looked like the skies were clearing. “I don’t know. There’s always something to do around here; maybe I’ll stay in and do some cleaning.”
Flori looked at me as if I were mad (that is, the old English meaning).
“Really? You’re going to stay inside and clean? I thought you did your cleaning on Mondays now that your shop is closed.”
Everything closes down on Monday in Parson’s Cove – the bank, the stores and even the library. Not that it was always like this. It used to be that everything stayed open and heaven forbid you even be late for work. I used to go to the shop if I were half dead because if I didn’t have a really good reason, Patty Morgan would write it up in the Parson’s Cove Weekly, which was all of four pages long. Last year I decided that I was tired of sitting all day every Monday in my shop without one customer coming in so I hung a sign up in the window saying Closed Mondays. The next week, the town council met and passed an ordinance declaring Mondays in Parson’s Cove, a holiday.