Gayle Trent

by Between a Clutch

  “Yeah, or even that old dude who goes in at four a.m. to make donuts at the bakery!”

  I laughed. “It’ll be interesting to see how he acts if he does call me back.”

  “Humph. He’ll call you back. You’re one hot granny.”

  “Thanks. I think. By the way, there’s something I’d like you to do for me.”

  “Name it.”

  “Do you think you can go on that Web, do a public records search or something, and find out Flora Adams’ maiden name?”

  “I’ll try. If they were married in this state, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Good.”

  “Havin’ second thoughts about him again?”

  “Sunny. He went out with Tansie. Of course, he killed his wife.”

  After I got off the phone, I went back through the papers Sunny had printed out about Flora’s disappearance. There were no pictures. I thought that was kinda weird. When does a paper run a story about a missing person and not include a photograph? That’d be like puttin’ a name on a milk carton with the heading “Have You Seen This Person?” and puttin’ a blank square underneath. Makes no sense whatsoever. Maybe the actual newspapers had run pictures, but they just didn’t put them on that Web. I didn’t want to bother Sunny again so soon, but I made a mental note to ask her about that.

  I went to the living room and sat down. Matlock sat on the floor beside me.

  “I’m gonna see if I can find Matlock, the show,” I told him. “I want you to be familiar with your namesake.” I scratched his head and then hugged him. “I really am glad to have you here.”

  He licked my nose.

  I put the television on the channel that tells you what’s on. Before I could figure out whether or not “Matlock” was coming on, Jim called.

  “Hello, Jim!” I put on my bright, cheery, butter-wouldn’tmelt-in-my-mouth voice. “I tried to return your call this morning, but you were out.”

  “Sorry I missed your call. I understand you got a new dog.”

  “I certainly did. My, but word travels fast.”

  He cleared his throat. “When I couldn’t reach you yesterday afternoon, I called Ms. Miller and asked her if she would be so kind as to meet me for dinner. I hate to dine alone.”

  “I can understand that perfectly. And it hasn’t been that long since you lost your Flora.”

  “No . . . no, it hasn’t. So, tell me about this dog of yours.”

  “My granddaughter Sunny and I stopped by the animal shelter . . . on a complete whim, mind you . . . and I simply fell in love with this dog. He’s a Chocolate Lab . . . quite large . . .but so sweet and intelligent.”

  “He sounds terrific. What did you name him?”

  “Matlock.”

  “Matlock?” Jim echoed.

  “Yes. I’m a big fan of the show . . . of Andy Griffith in general, really. You know, you remind me a bit of Andy.” I meant the actor part, of course, since he could act all cool and innocent with poor old Flora who-knows-where.

  “Really?” Jim asked. “I’m flattered.”

  It suddenly dawned on me how I might get a glimpse of a picture of Flora. “Say, Jim, are you busy tomorrow afternoon?”

  “No. What do you have in mind?”

  “Sunny—you know, my granddaughter—is selling candy bars . . . it’s some sort of fund raiser. I’ll be taking her around tomorrow afternoon—Matlock and I, that is—and I thought that might be an excellent opportunity to help Sunny and introduce you to Matlock at the same time.”

  “That would be lovely, but isn’t my neighborhood a bit out of the way for you?”

  “Not at all.” I laughed. “When Sunny and I are on a mission, you can never tell where all we’ll go.”

  “Then I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.” He gave me his street address, and we “rang off,” as Tansie would say.

  As soon as I hung up my phone, I raised my eyes heavenward. “Lord, please forgive me for that lie . . . but, really, it was for the greater good, you know . . . and I’ll make it right somehow, okay? Okay. Thanks, Lord. Amen.”

  I sighed and looked down at Matlock. I half expected him to have his paws over his head in case lightning struck.

  “Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do in the detective biz,” I told him. “And, like I told the Lord, I’ll make it right. You’ll see.”

  I wasn’t sure yet how I was gonna make it right, but I had several hours to come up with something.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Boy, was Sunny surprised when she called later that evening to tell me what she found out about Flora. Actually, she didn’t find out a thing—which was what she was calling to tell me. She could find any marriage records for a Jim Adams and a Flora anybody. So I went ahead and told her about my plan for a fund-raiser.

  “You told him what?!”

  “Shhh,” I told her. “Keep your voice down. If your mama hears you and figures out we’re up to somethin’, she’ll never let you go.”

  “Who says I want to go?”

  “So, you don’t wanna go? That’s okay. Me and Matlock’ll go.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want to go, Mimi.”

  “Well, that’s how I took it.”

  She huffed at me. “I can’t let you go to that killer’s house alone, can I?”

  “Will you please not let Faye overhear you?”

  “She’s not gonna overhear anything. She’s usually in her own little world.”

  “You do realize I wouldn’t take you anywhere I truly thought was dangerous, don’t you?”

  “Yeah . . . sure.”

  “You don’t sound sure.”

  “I’m sure, Mimi.”

  “Well, maybe I’d just better go by myself.”

  “You’d better not,” Sunny said. “As a matter fact, I’d like to see a picture of Flora, too. Now that you mention it, it is odd that none of the articles ran a picture.”

  “That’s okay. Now, don’t you worry about anything. I’ll get the candy bars, and I’ll try to make everything look all official.”

  “Let’s tell him we ran out of candy bars just before we got to his house. I’d hate for you to get arrested for fraud.”

  Fraud—I hadn’t thought of that. My granddaughter is one sharp cookie, don’t you think?

  “I’m tellin’ you, don’t worry. I’m not gonna get arrested. I’m plannin’ to give the proceeds to a worthy cause.”

  “What worthy cause?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said. “I’ll let you know. And don’t fret about Jim trying to get violent on us, either, ‘cause Matlock’ll have our backs.”

  Sunny sighed. “Mimi, you really are nuts.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe I’m like Hamlet and there’s method to my madness.”

  “Cool. You know your Shakespeare.”

  “Eh, fairly well, I guess. Mainly I knew that because I reread the play when I was goin’ through my pot-bellied-pig phase. I thought they were the cutest things. I wanted to get one and call him ‘Hamlet.’”

  “You are so, so nuts.”

  “Pick you up at four tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be waiting.”

  She was, too. I don’t know what she told Faye. She didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask. She looked like a doll in her little jeans and cotton candy pink sweatshirt. Sunny likes pink, and it suits her fair coloring.

  Matlock was in the back seat of the Buick just as happy as he could be. You should’ve heard his tail thump against that vinyl upholstery when Sunny got in the car. She loved on him until I made her turn around and put on her seat belt.

  “Where’s the candy?” she asked.

  “Trunk.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re unreal.” She smiled though.

  “Wait’ll you see it. You’ll be proud.” I checked the rearview and backed out into the street. “Just let me do the talking when we get there, okay?”

  “No prob. I’m lookin’ forward to hearing this myself.”

  She
put in a CD she’d brought along, and Matlock heaved a big sigh and laid down in the seat. It was a pleasant drive. I’ve gotta admit, I did start to get a little nervous when I got to Jim’s neighborhood.

  Since his wasn’t the first house on the street, I thought it’d look better if we started at one end and worked our way down to the other. After all, we were supporting a cause, and we needed to be thorough.

  Matlock jumped right out and peed on a bush before Sunny could even get the leash on him. Thankfully, she caught him before he took a notion to tear out through the neighborhood. That would’ve looked great—the two of us chasing a dog all over Jim’s neighbors’ backyards . . . and me trailing candy bars the whole way.

  Once Sunny had Matlock under control, she turned around to check out the box I’d hauled out of the trunk. It was your typical pasteboard box, and I’d put a sign on the front that read, “Candy for Kennels. Proceeds to benefit local animal shelter.”

  On the sides, I’d added signs that read, “Want something sweet? Candy lasts minutes; a furry friend can last a lifetime.” Actually, I can tell you from personal experience that candy can last a lifetime, too, if you eat enough of it; but I was trying to make a point. Besides, I never claimed to be an advertising whiz.

  We strode up to the first house—an immaculate little ranch house—and rang the bell. An old woman with pink foam rollers all over her head came and peeked out the window.

  “Who are you people?” she yelled through the closed door at us. “What do you want?”

  I smiled like I didn’t have good sense. “Hello! We’re selling candy bars on behalf of—”

  “I don’t want none!” she yelled. “Get off my porch!”

  “Okay!” I hollered back. “Thanks for your time!”

  We walked off the porch, and I looked at Sunny. “What a goon.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Still, I guess she was scared. I mean, she didn’t know us or anything.”

  “Well, I know that, but you couldn’t ask for any two nicer looking people than me and you.”

  “True, but we’re leading a monstrosity of a dog.”

  I turned down the corners of my mouth. “You’ve got a point.”

  “Where’d you get all these candy bars?”

  “At the grocery store. Bought ten six packs . . . figure I should be able to about break even that way.”

  By this time, we were at the next house. It was a split-level and its yard was filled with little plastic ride-ons and toys. We might have better luck here if Hysterical-Pink-Roller-Head hadn’t called the cops on us yet.

  A young, tired-looking woman with a baby on her hip answered the door. “Mom” was wearing gray sweatpants and a tee shirt that might’ve been white at one time or another. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, but right now it was half up and half down. As much as I hated to ask this woman for anything, I had to have some excuse for knocking on her door.

  “Hello,” I said, “we’re trying to raise a little money for the animal shelter. Would you like to purchase some candy bars?”

  “What kind have you got?”

  I peered into the box. “Looks like we still have a little bit of everything. Would you like to see for yourself?”

  She nodded toward Matlock. “He bite?”

  “No, he’s a doll. In fact, we got him at the shelter.”

  “Really? Aw, how nice.” She stepped out onto the porch. “Are you a good boy?” she asked, patting Matlock’s head.

  He panted up at her, prompting her to tell the baby, “Look, Charlie. See the pretty doggie?” She peeped into the box and then called over her shoulder, “Kids, come pick you out a candy bar! And bring my pocketbook off the kitchen table!”

  After what sounded like a stampede inside the house, three children under the age of seven burst out of the house. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep hold of the box and to remain standing. I could see why their mother looked exhausted. Within seconds, twelve little hands grasped about half the candy bars in the box. Wisely, Sunny took Matlock off the porch. He was a good-natured animal, but who knew how well he could take a riot?

  “Did anyone bring me my pocketbook?” the woman asked. Not seeing it, she answered her own question. “No.”

  “Tell you what,” I said. “It appears you’ve more than got your hands full. Why don’t I give each of the children a candy bar, and you just promise me that you’ll consider the animal shelter the next time you’re in the market for a pet.” As if she needed something else to vie for her attention and clean up after; but, hey, maybe she was a glutton for punishment.

  “That’s awfully nice of you,” she began, “but—”

  “But nothing. Take it as a gift from one mom to another.”

  She smiled. “Is she your only one?”

  “My only granddaughter!” I laughed. “Say, did you know Flora Adams? I think she lived in this neighborhood.”

  “Yeah. They live right next door . . . her and her husband. I don’t know either of them very well—just to speak is all.” She frowned slightly. “They keep to themselves. In fact, I hardly ever see either one of them . . . and come to think of it I’ve never seen the two of them together.”

  “I read somewhere that she’d disappeared a while back,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah, that’s right. I’d forgotten.” She shifted the baby to her other hip. “She probably got tired of being alone all the time and left. Like I said, I never saw them together.”

  “What a shame.”

  The children were still clamoring in the box.

  “One apiece,” she told them. “And thank the lady.”

  The children made their choices, dutifully thanked me and went back inside. Their mother thanked me, too, and then trailed after them.

  I walked off the porch and over to Sunny. “Bless her heart,” I said under my breath.

  “Among other things,” she muttered.

  The next house was Jim’s. He answered the door wearing a yellow polo shirt and khaki slacks. Very dapper. I was glad because—killer, or not—I’d gone out with him and I didn’t want Sunny to think I’d date a slob.

  “Hello, Myrtle! This must be Sunny.” He extended his hand, and Sunny shook hands with him very politely. Then Jim bent down to pet Matlock. “Aren’t you a handsome fella? Oh, Myrtle, I’m so glad you saved him.” His voice had changed to a falsetto coo.

  “I am, too,” I said. “It’s been wonderful having him around.”

  Jim straightened. “Won’t you come in?”

  “We have a lot of ground to cover yet, but I suppose we could come in for a second.”

  Jim held the door, and I motioned Sunny in ahead of me. When I got in, I looked around the immaculate living room. A taupe couch sat beneath a beautiful watercolor of a lake in summertime. A glass-topped coffee table was in front of the couch, and there wasn’t a thing on it—not a thing! It almost made me embarrassed to think of my own cluttered coffee table. Light blue wing-backed chairs with a taupe stripe running through them completed the airy arrangement.

  “You have a beautiful home, Jim,” I said.

  “Thank you. Now, young lady,” he said to Sunny, “tell me about this charity you’re doing all this work for.”

  “Actually,” Sunny said, “it’s not really a charity. It’s the shelter where Mimi got Matlock.” She shrugged. “Maybe if we give them some money, they can afford to keep the animals a little longer.”

  He smiled. “A noble cause indeed. Let me see what you have here.” He chose five candy bars and gave Sunny a five-dollar-bill. “I have something for you, too,” he said to Matlock.

  He went into the kitchen and got the dog a piece of ham. Matlock inhaled it. I don’t think he chewed a single time. Then he wagged his tail and stared up at Jim in hopes of another treat.

  “We really need to finish up in the neighborhood so I can get Sunny home.” I smiled at Jim. “I hope you enjoy your candy.”

  He patted his flat stomach. “I’m sure I will. I’l
l call you tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  Sunny and I walked up the street toward the next house. “Did we overcharge him?” she asked under her breath.

  “Who knows? It’s not like this thing is structured in any way, shape, form or fashion. Besides, it’s for ‘a noble cause indeed,’ you know.”