Calamity @ the Carwash: A Parson's Cove Cozy Mystery

by Sharon Rose

  “Do you really think so? I wonder if I should tell him about the hubcaps?”

  I sat down again. “Hubcaps? What about them?”

  “Well, besides washing the car when it didn’t need it, he started removing the hub caps from his car, cleaning them, and putting them back on all the time. I asked him why he was doing it but he told me to mind my own business.”

  “Did you ever think they might be hiding drugs in the hubcaps?”

  She looked at me in astonishment. “Drugs? You mean, like cocaine or marijuana? Of course not. Why would they bring drugs to Parson's Cove? Mabel, who in our little town would buy drugs?”

  “I don’t think Parson's Cove is the perfect little place you think it is. We don’t live in a bubble here, Melanie. Besides, we have many tourists all summer. What if some of them like having their drugs brought right to them? I think there might be a lucrative drug market here.”

  We heard a car door slam and watched Maxymowich walking up to the front door with Sheriff Smee several feet behind. I have to admit that I was proud of my sheriff. He found a very legitimate way of getting in to see Melanie. I hoped that he’d learn even more than I had.

  I escaped the living room just as the doorbell rang and went out the back door. As I snuck down the lane, I detoured down Scooter’s lane. His wife, Betty, happened to be putting out her garbage when I walked past.

  I think when we see someone putting out the garbage, we have the natural instinct to look and see what it is. Betty and Scooter had exactly what I envisioned. She worked nights so had no time to cook and he was lazy so all they ate were packaged and junk food. It was disappointing to know that someone who worked in the hospital wouldn’t eat better though. Not that I wanted to stare but I hadn’t seen that many empty doughnut and cookie cartons in a long time. This is not counting what Flori and I eat because everything we consume is made from real butter, sugar and eggs.

  “Betty,” I said, in a loud voice but not too loud that I would make her jump. “How are you? Haven’t seen you around for awhile; although I guess that’s because you’re busy working nights.”

  Betty looked up. She looked like a night worker - dark around the eyes with tired gray skin.

  “Oh, hi Mabel.” She slowly straightened up and even though she didn’t say her back was aching, I could feel that it was. “Yeah, I don’t see much of anyone. If I didn’t need the extra cash that comes from working nights, believe me, I would never do it. Scooter insists that I quit after next year. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I doubt the shoe repair business is going to pick up.” She laughed. Not an infectious laugh - you knew she didn’t expect you to laugh in return.

  “I don’t know how you’ve done it all these years. Even at your age, I don’t think I could’ve handled it.” I gave her one of my ‘encouraging you to talk’ smiles. “How is Scooter’s business doing anyway? Seems he’s always busy in that garage of yours.”

  She shrugged. “Things have picked up lately. At least, he claims we’ll have enough saved to go on a vacation this summer. I could sure use one.”

  She reached down to pick up a flattened cookie bag that had dropped to the ground and stuffed it inside the recycling box that sat beside the old dented garbage can.

  “Scooter must really like his sweets,” I said. “I should get Flori to bake some cinnamon buns for him. They are so much better than those store-bought goodies.”

  She smiled. “I know we eat too much junk. I haven’t baked in years. I don’t think I’d even know how anymore.”

  “Well, if Scooter is right about his business picking up, maybe you can retire and do all the baking you’d like.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a dream? I hope it comes true because I’m sure sick of working so much. I shouldn’t say that though, Mabel, because I do love my job. It’s just the night work that wears me out.”

  “I’m wondering what kind of people get their shoes repaired nowadays. Of course, I’m always in sneakers so I wear them until they fall apart. I mean, who wears shoes that cost enough to have repaired? Why not buy a new pair?”

  “I know what you mean. I don’t even get Scooter to fix my shoes. He gets quite a few orders for work boots from the city. He said he had some kind of contract with a company. To tell you the truth, Mabel, I was so tired I didn’t really pay much attention to what he was telling me.”

  “A contract from the city? I would say that’s the way to go. Good for him. How, on earth, would he get the boots delivered? You know, all that travelling - would a person make anything after you paid for the gas?”

  “I have no idea but I’m sure he’s hatched up some plan.”

  “I’m sure he has. Maybe Calvin helps him out. They’re together quite a bit.”

  She made a face. “I think he has too much to do with that guy but he’s a grown man; he should be old enough to choose his own friends, I guess.” She closed the lid on the garbage can. “I’d better get back to my cleaning. Nice talking with you, Mabel.”

  “Nice chatting with you too, Betty.” I started to walk away but turned back and said, “How come you have to clean when Scooter’s at home all the time?”

  This time she did a genuine laugh. “Yeah, right. Thanks for sharing the joke of the day with me.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  I felt that we were progressing well in the case. The murderer hadn’t been caught but there were obviously nefarious happenings going on in Parson's Cove. Scooter and Calvin were involved in something and Bernie was in on it too. Or, I should say, ‘had been’ in on it. Did Bernie double cross them and one of them ended up killing him? Why would someone kill him behind the carwash though? Especially if Melanie was sitting in the car. Wasn’t that a bit daring? She could’ve popped around the corner or opened the back door at any time. Maybe Bernie was doing a drug deal and something went wrong. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

  It was after supper before Reg phoned.

  “So?” I said. “What did you find out from Maxymowich?”

  “Not much, Mabel. They’re pretty tight-lipped about it all. Melanie did tell us about the shoes and hubcaps but Maxymowich told me afterwards that they’d checked out Scooter’s garage and house but there was no evidence of drugs of any kind.”

  “Really? Scooter must’ve known they were watching and cleaned everything up. It has to be drugs, Reg. What else could it be?”

  “I don’t know but I do know one thing, Mabel, we can’t prove anything because your cat is intrigued with some odor. Besides, I’m sure that drugs would be in a plastic bag or a container of some sort so how could your cat smell anything through that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m very disappointed. I thought there would be drugs in those shoes and hubcaps. Whatever we do, we have to find out what those two were hiding because I’m sure that’s why Bernie was killed.”

  “I’ll give you a warning - don’t mention your cat to the Captain.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I hinted at it and he almost choked, he was laughing so hard.”

  “Is that so? Well, what if Murray’s dog was sniffing out something and that’s why it got killed?”

  There was a moment of silence on the other end. There was also a moment of silence on my end. The words had just popped out but they made perfect sense. Why would anyone hit an old friendly dog on the head that had never hurt anyone in its life – unless that dog was sniffing out something that it shouldn’t be?

  I knew then what I would have to do. Somehow, I’d have to get to either Scooter’s garage or Calvin’s boots and take my cat with me.

  “Reg,” I said. “I have a plan.”

  For once, the Sheriff thought that I had a good idea.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Sammy and I were to meet Reg at midnight. He would pick me up at my house and we’d proceed with caution (in other words, with the headlights off), first to Calvin’s house and then if his taxi wasn’t parked outside, to Scooter’s garage.

  Sammy knew something was
up. Perhaps, it was because all the other cats were allowed outside and he was forced to stay in. I definitely didn’t trust him to return home on time. To make everything look normal, I shut all my lights off by ten and wandered around the house in the dark.

  There were lights on in the house behind mine. I still hadn’t met Jeff’s wife so I thought that to pass the time, I would keep my eye on the house. Maybe I’d catch a glimpse of her through the window so I pulled down my mini blinds and peeked through the slats. Really, what else was there for me to do?

  Good thing that I did too. It was about ten thirty when I happened to look out the window. Who do you think I saw? Good old Scooter and Calvin entering Krueger’s backdoor. I also happen to know when someone is sneaking around. Why else would they both stand on the step and watch my house until the door opened for them?

  I should’ve given Reg a call right then but I didn’t want to leave my post. They weren’t in the house for very long. Just in and out. I’d say long enough to make a drug deal though.

  “You sure it was Scooter and Calvin?” were the first words out of Sheriff Smee’s mouth when I told him what I’d seen.

  “Of course, it was. It’s pretty easy to pick those two out even if it’s in the dark. Besides, the kitchen window gave enough light for me to see their profiles.”

  “I know it looks suspicious but I’m sure the cops did a thorough search. You know Maxymowich. I can’t see him missing anything.”

  “What exactly did they find?”

  We were now coasting along on Scooter’s back lane. Reg was driving his SUV. He’d left the cruiser parked in front of his house so people would think he was home. Besides, there’s no way you can sneak around town in a police cruiser. I offered to use my car but Reg said my 1969 Buick would be more obvious than the cruiser. However, I have a feeling that if I’d told him he could drive, he probably would’ve said okay.

  “I don’t think they found anything that meant anything.”

  “Well, just tell me what he told you. There were no drugs of any kind?”

  “The only drugs that they found were in the house and in the glove compartment of the car.”

  “What kind of drugs?”

  “Nothing illegal, Mabel. Drugs for diabetes, that’s all.”

  “Who’s diabetic?”

  “I think Betty must be.”

  “That’s strange because when I was talking to her today, she didn’t mention anything like that.”

  “You were talking to her today?”

  “Yeah. She was putting her garbage and recycling out. I’ll tell you, it was mostly folded doughnut and cake cartons. She said she didn’t bake anymore so they ate store bought baking. I offered Flori’s cinnamon buns but if she or Scooter were diabetic, I’m sure she would’ve said something. Besides, she’s a nurse and she’d be a very foolish one to have that much junk food in her home if either one was diabetic.”

  “I know that doesn’t make sense, Mabel, but some people aren’t too smart when it comes to health. Sometimes the worst ones are those who look after other people’s health. She could be diabetic and still buy cakes for Scooter. Maybe he insists. Or, maybe he buys it.”

  “I guess you’re right.” I still couldn’t help but feel that if Betty was diabetic, she would’ve mentioned it. Women share things like that. In case someone found out that she was, she’d want to make sure everyone knew the sweet treats were not for her.

  We slid slowly to a stop a few houses down from Scooter’s garage. Calvin had parked his taxi close to the door so vehicles could drive past. There was a light on in the garage so the two men would be inside.

  “Come on,” Reg said. “Bring your cat.”

  Sammy, who had been thoroughly enjoying this outing, leaped out of my grasp as soon as the door was open an inch, squeezed through and jumped to the ground. My heart sank. If ever I felt like killing a cat, it was now. Not that I ever would, it was a fleeting fancy.

  “Mabel,” Reg yelled. “Catch that damn cat! Why’d you let him go?”

  If ever I felt like killing a cop. Fear not - only a fleeting fancy.

  “I’ll have you know, Reg Smee, I did not let him go on purpose. Lower your voice. Do you want the whole neighborhood to see us?”

  We both looked down the lane. Thankfully Sammy is the one who has the good sniffer because he’s my only white cat and he was easy to spot in the moonlight. He was heading straight for Calvin’s taxi.

  Reg grabbed a large screwdriver from off the dashboard and we raced after Sammy.

  As before, the cat couldn’t get enough of Calvin’s hubcaps. He was going frantic, scratching and sniffing.

  “Reg,” I whispered. “Do you hear Sammy? He’s purring.”

  Reg bent down and began removing the hubcap. Sammy was going crazy. The cap fell to the ground with a clatter. We held our breath. Sammy was concerned. He was ripping away at the paper bag that held something very smelly.

  “Phew,” I said. “Now I know why Sammy loved the smell of this; it smells like fish.”

  “Old dead fish.” Reg stopped breathing through his nose and started breathing through his mouth. “You hang on to your cat, Mabel, and I’ll take one of these small packets. I’ll put the rest back.”

  Sammy wasn’t too pleased being held again. “Reg,” I whispered, “Give him a piece of brown paper. I won’t have so much trouble carrying him to the car then.”

  He ripped off a small piece of paper and handed it to me. “It’s just the paper that smells anyway.”

  Sammy was quite content to chew on the piece of brown paper all the way to the car. I would be content if the smell of dead fish didn’t stay in my nostrils. What were those men doing? Were they putting drugs into dead fish smelling bags so the drugs couldn’t be detected? Surely, they could’ve used some of Betty’s perfume instead.

  I sat down and started to buckle up when I saw Reg racing towards me. At the same time, I saw the garage door start to rise. It had been a long time since I’d seen my sheriff run that fast. He jumped in and started the truck up before the door closed. I’m sure his foot was dangling outside as we made our getaway. The last I saw as Reg turned the truck around was Calvin standing outside the garage yelling something.

  “What happened?” I asked as we sped towards my place.

  “They heard me putting the hubcap back on,” he said. “I had to give it a kick with my foot and they must’ve heard that. Darn thing wouldn’t go on.”

  “Well, I don’t think he could see who we were. I wonder if they’ll figure out what we were up to?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think it will take long. That’s the first place they’ll look now.”

  It took only about three minutes to get to my house. I looked at the clock on the dash. It wasn’t quite one yet.

  I jumped out. Sammy went off into the night with the brown paper in his mouth. Undoubtedly, he’d be bragging to every alley cat that he could find.

  “Let me know what kind of drugs those are as soon as you can, Reg. Maybe this is where Prunella bought her drugs. This could be a real big drug bust for you and me.”

  “I’ll take them over to the lab at the hospital first thing in the morning,” he said.

  Before he ripped out of the driveway, I saw Hilda Whinegate‘s lights go on and I knew by ten tomorrow morning half of Parson's Cove would think I’d been out carousing with some male stranger.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Monday morning

  “What, in heaven’s name, were you thinking?” Flori was yelling in my ear. The phone was about six inches away and it still hurt. Not the words, the sound.

  It wasn’t seven yet and I hadn’t finished my first cup of coffee. The sky was dark and it looked like one of those dreary, damp, depressing, dismal days. I was glad I didn’t have to drag myself to work. Monday was always an unprofitable day for me. Flori was concerned at first when I closed for the day but when she realized I was spending more money turning the lights on than what I was taking in,
she couldn’t understand why I hadn’t done it years before. Of course, now that everyone else decided to follow suit, Parson's Cove is a quiet place on a Monday.

  “What are you talking about, Flori?” I asked.

  “Mabel, you didn’t come home until the wee hours in the morning. Hilda called me not five minutes ago to see if I knew anything about it. I can’t believe that you’re leading a double life.”

  I waited because I knew what was coming. The clock said ten to seven. The tears would last five, the coughing and hiccoughing another five and then the sniffling.

  (Through the years, many have asked me about Flori’s crying habits. Some have even suggested psychotherapy. Since this has been her personality for as long as I remember, however, it really doesn’t bother me. She contributes all my idiosyncrasies to being an only child and I contribute all hers to being an only child for four years and then having six siblings to deal with.)

  At three minutes past seven, Flori resumed speaking.

  “I’m sorry, Mabel, but you’ve been my very best friend for so many years and you know that I’ve shared everything with you.”

  “I know, Flori. You’ve shared things with me that you didn’t even share with Jake. And, you’ve shared things about Jake that make me blush just to think about.”

  “Then, why? Why?”

  “Why what, Flori?”

  There was a stunned silence.

  “Why what? Why were you coming home at three in the morning? Not only that, you were in an old army Jeep with no muffler and were waking up the whole neighborhood. And, who was the handsome stranger who dropped you off at your door?”

  This was too much. Hilda had outdone herself this time. I’d have to congratulate her when I saw her. I was laughing so hard I had to put my coffee cup down.

  “Mabel, are you there? What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sound like you’re crying.”