Roses and Daisies and Death Oh My!

by Petersen, Penny Clover

  “Okay. Why will you just whisper?”

  “Remember the movie Sneakers? That’s how Ben Kingsley caught Robert Redford in the air conditioning ducts. Sidney Poitier got worried and started yelling into his, Robert Redford’s, ear phone and the henchman heard him and started shooting!”

  “Well, we can’t have that,” said Rose. “I’ll keep my phone on vibrate and I won’t talk when I answer. You’ll just hear my heart beating.”

  They made their way across the street and into the back garden of Hazel’s shop through the alley. Using a trash can as a step stool to get onto the roof of the toolshed, they scrambled across it and hoisted themselves onto the roof of the back porch.

  “Hurry up. I’m freezing my butt off,” said Rose.

  “You wouldn’t mind losing some of your butt. I’ve heard you say so. You should have worn long underwear.”

  “I did! It’s fifteen degrees, Daisy. Long underwear only helps so much when you’re breaking and entering.”

  “Not breaking and entering, opening and entering. And if the window’s not unlocked we’ll go home.”

  They were wriggling toward the window when Rose’s phone started to vibrate.

  “Rats! Lay down. Mother’s calling.”

  Rose lifted the phone to her ear. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “DO NOT SPEAK!” cried Angela. “Oops. Sorry, too loud.” Then she whispered, “Okay, the dog walker is out. Give him a minute to get around the corner. He’s almost there. Oh no, he’s stopped between Hazel’s and Mary Newhart’s.”

  Daisy and Rose heard them. A disembodied man’s voice coaxed, “Come on girl. It’s cold. Let’s go home. No, no, we can’t go back there. That’s Miss Hazel’s place. We can’t go sniffing into other people’s yards.”

  At the same time Angela was whispering frantically into Rose’s ear, “The dog must know you’re there. She’s trying to pull old Mr. Whatsis into Hazel’s back yard.”

  The dog was pulling at her leash and barking.

  “Quiet, Maggie. You’ll wake the whole neighborhood. What is it? Is someone back there? Hey, anybody back there?” he called.

  Daisy and Rose were lying there stone still wondering how in the world they could explain this when Angela walked out the door of their house with Malcolm on his leash and strolled up the street to the lamppost opposite Hazel’s.

  “Cold night, isn’t it? But these little guys do need their walkies.” Maggie spotted Malcolm and turned away from Hazel’s backyard.

  “Hi there,” said the dog walker. “I’m Ron Tucker. I live just behind your daughters’ place, last house on Market,” he said as he pulled Maggie across the street. “Maggie was putting up such a ruckus, I was afraid she’d bother the neighbors.”

  “What did she find? A raccoon? Malcolm is always chasing after raccoons. I’ve told him he’ll be sorry if he ever catches one. They have some kind of sharp teeth.”

  “That’s the truth. You’re right. Probably a raccoon. It’s just with all these goings on lately, I’m a little suspicious.”

  “Oh, I don’t blame you. Well, it’s late and getting colder by the minute. Good night.” Angela started back home.

  “Good night. Merry Christmas,” replied Mr. Tucker as he made a left on Market and on to his home.

  A minute later, Daisy and Rose were heaving a sigh of relief. “Thank God Mother’s on the ball. Let’s just go home now before we get caught,” said Rose.

  “We’ve gotten this far and nobody else is going to be out. Let’s see if we can get in anyway. At least we don’t need the flashlight.” No clouds obstructed the full moon shining brightly overhead.

  Daisy pulled herself up and standing on tiptoe pulled at the window. It’s a little stiff, but I think…” There was a loud screech as the old window started to move upward. Daisy got out her WD40 and sprayed around the frame. She waited a minute and tried again. The window moved quietly. “Always be prepared! Glad I was a Girl Scout.”

  “You were never a Girl Scout,” whispered Rose.

  “Well, whatever. I’m prepared. Come on. Let’s see what’s inside.”

  They climbed through the window and pulled it shut. Daisy turned her flashlight on and a moment later the phone buzzed again. She quickly turned off the flashlight as Rose answered. “What?”

  “I can see the flashlight from here. Just wanted you to know. No sign of the fuzz, but that was a close call with old man Tucker.”

  “That was quick thinking. You’re a wonder. Thanks, Mom. We’ll figure something out with the window.”

  Rose looked around for something to cover the window with. “She really gets into her role! I guess I’ll just hang my coat over the window. That should work.” She took her parka off and hung it over the window. “Holy moly! It’s cold in here. Hurry up. What is it we’re looking for?”

  Hazel’s attic was as orderly as the shop. Not a thing out of place. Bookshelves lined two walls. A small table and chair with a reading lamp sat by the front window. A vacuum cleaner and a small cupboard were in the far corner. Daisy said, “Wow. Our house isn’t this neat.”

  “And it’s clean. There’s no dust. In what universe do people dust their attics? Maybe she’ll come over and clean for us.”

  Daisy had been shining the flashlight around the room and found what she was looking for. “Over here. Still in the boxes. Hazel doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to go through this stuff.” Three boxes labeled ‘Worthington Estate Sale-miscellaneous books’ were stacked in the corner.

  “Well, we better put everything back exactly as we find it. A neat freak like Hazel is bound to know if something’s been moved.”

  They carefully opened the boxes and took the books out one by one, shaking each by the covers. Bits of paper fell from most of them and she and Rose gathered them into a small pile. Toward the bottom of the third box they found a smallish leather-bound binder with pages like the one they had found earlier.

  Daisy flipped through it. “It’s the rest of his diary! I’m taking this with me. I know, I know, it’s stealing. Big woo! It’s not something Hazel can sell and it might hold a clue to the diamond or to Ted’s murder. If it will make you any happier, I’ll try to get it back somehow after we read it.”

  “Anything, just let’s go. I’m turning into an ice cube,” answered Rose.

  They had just closed and restacked the last box and opened the window to leave when they heard a sound from below.

  “It’s probably Roscoe,” murmured Daisy. But then they heard definite footsteps moving toward the stairs.

  “Come on,” hissed Rose. The window started to screech again and Daisy got out her trusty WD40 once more. The footsteps started up the stairway. Daisy got the window open. They climbed out and slid it closed just as they heard the attic door open with a little squeak.

  They lay perfectly still on the porch roof hugging the side of the house. A light went on in the attic. They didn’t dare breath. In a couple of minutes the light went out. They lay there ten more minutes shivering from cold and fright.

  “What was Hazel doing here in the middle of the night? And why wasn’t that damned door locked? We could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble if I had gotten in there the other day,” whispered Rose.

  “How do we know it was Hazel? It could have been someone else. I know Hazel gave a set of keys to Mary, in case of emergency. We’ll worry about that later. Let’s get out of here. I’m so cold if I lay here another minute I’ll be frozen in place.”

  They shimmied down the roof to the shed, walked behind Newhart’s Antiques next door, and reached the alley without incident.

  They were crossing Azalea when an unmarked police car pulled up outside Marc’s shop. Bill Greene got out and saw them as they reached their front door. “Hey, Daisy, Rose. What are you doing out this time of night?”

  Under her breath Daisy murmured, “This really gripes my cookies. The one freezing cold night of the year we pick to do a little O&E and the entire world seems to be milling a
round Old Towne.” To Bill she smiled and said, “What are you doing here?”

  “Some guy named Tucker called to report prowlers. I was in the neighborhood when I caught it on the radio and came to check it out.” He looked at them and frowned. “You two look like a couple of really chubby cat burglars. Are you the prowlers?”

  They looked at each other and laughed. They were both wearing dark down parkas over about five layers of warm clothes. “I guess we do look a bit lumpy. Lots of layers. It’s cold!” replied Rose.

  “Yes, it is. So again, why are you out?”

  “We were looking for Malcolm,” said Daisy. “He ran off earlier and hasn’t come home. We worry about him. After all, he’s already been attacked once.”

  Bill looked up at their living room and said, “Isn’t that Malcolm in the window next to your mother?”

  Angela waved at Daisy and held up Malcolm like a trophy.

  “Thank God. He must have come back while we’ve been looking for him. Well, good-night, Bill. Good luck with Mr. Tucker. He’s a nice man, but getting a little addled.” She and Rose turned to go in.

  “Hold it!” They turned around. Bill Greene was standing in the street, hands on hips and looking just like an extremely irritated cop. “I don’t know what you’ve been up to, but what ever it is, stop it! I mean it. If I find out that either of you knows something about what’s been going on here and hasn’t let me in on it, I will throw the book at you. Do you understand me? This is police business. Let me take care of it.”

  Rose waited for an explosion, but Daisy quietly said, “Of course, Bill. We wouldn’t consider anything else. Good luck with your prowler.”

  They turned and went inside.

  “That was a bit close,” said Rose as she and Daisy trudged up the stairs to their apartment. She laughed. “I don’t think Bill actually believed you. About looking for Malcolm, I mean.”

  “Really? I was sure he totally believed that you and I put on three tons of black woolies to go look for a dog who was sitting in our living room window. Well, it can’t be helped. He hasn’t trusted me for a long time.

  “Strange isn’t it? He’s the one who cheated on me. And that’s when he started doubting everything I said and did. What’s that called?”

  “What’s what called?”

  “Projection. He was projecting his rotten, cheating, asinine behavior onto me. Well, he’d better stop it!” Daisy’s voice was rising. “If he tells me what to do one more time, I’ll be the one throwing books!”

  “Daisy, relax. I was proud of the way you kept calm out there. But don’t take it out on me now.”

  “Sorry. He just really infuriates me.”

  “Well, apparently you infuriate him a good deal, too. And consider this. We’re not exactly squeaky clean in the truth department.”

  “I firmly believe that truth is highly overrated. I mean, think about it. No one really wants to know she looks like a gigantic Easter egg in a new bathing suit. You can’t return bathing suits. Nope. There is always room for inventive prevarication. Except when you’re married to a lying, cheating rat. Then lying matters a hell of a lot!”

  “Okay, okay. I’ve got it. He is a lying rat. We are inventive prevaricators who are now going to inspect our little find.”

  Angela had been sitting on the couch listening to this exchange. At Rose’s last words she jumped up and said, “What did you find? What an exciting evening. I think I did pretty well covering for you with old man Tucker. And what did Bill want? Why was he here, anyway?”

  They sat at the dining table and put the journal and bits of paper on the table.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” cried Angela. “I have just the thing.”

  She darted into the kitchen and came back in a couple of minutes with three martini glasses filled with amber liquid and lime slices. “Sneaky Pete’s! Appropriate for cat burglars, don’t you think?”

  “Perfect,” said Daisy. “I could use a little serenity in a glass.”

  They toasted not getting caught and Rose told Angela about the other intruder in Hazel’s attic and their close call.

  “I certainly didn’t see anyone on Azalea. Whoever it was must have come in from Market, but I’m sure I would have seen car lights. And I didn’t,” said Angela. “It must have been Hazel, though. Who else?”

  Rose said, “Mary Newhart has keys to the shop.”

  Daisy said, “And Tonya told me that Mary has been bugging her almost daily trying to find out what Tom knows about the murder.”

  Rose said, “Of course, it really could have been anyone. I mean we weren’t there by invitation. Maybe someone else entirely was looking for something,” suggested Daisy. “That shop does seem to get a lot of uninvited business.”

  Rose looked at Daisy and said, “Why was Bill in the area when Mr. Tucker’s call came in? What was he doing here at this time of night?”

  “Good question. I don’t have a good answer,” said Daisy.

  They began examining their finds. There were fourteen scraps of paper from the books. Most were nothing more than pieces of envelopes or old receipts. But two were telephone messages, a reminder from his dentist, and a call from Ted.

  “Big woo!” said Rose.

  Daisy was reading the journal which turned out to be good stuff.

  “It’s begins in July 1998. Let’s see, he’s seeing a lot of Helen, his dinner date from the other page we found. Boy, he bought himself seats on a lot of boards. He has at least one meeting a week at various museums and galleries.

  “Here’s a good one. ‘Proctor found the Italian roll top I’ve been wanting. I’m looking at it Thursday.’ I wonder if it’s the same desk Marc bought at the auction. Why wouldn’t he say something?

  “Oh, listen to this from October twenty-third. ‘Audrey Milstead is at it again. I’ve called Lionel Entwistle and he’s getting a restraining order. I can’t figure the woman out at all. I don’t know what she wants. We barely know each other. The one and only time I met her was at the MHS fundraiser last month. Since then she has been, I can only call it, stalking me.’

  The rest is more of the same. He mentions this Audrey Milstead a couple of more times. Lots of lunches and meetings. Hey! It stops on December fifteenth.”

  “Nothing else like this was in the boxes? Where are the rest of the diaries?” wondered Angela.

  Rose was paging through the book. “I would imagine that this was simply overlooked by whoever packed up his library for the auction. I’m sure his lawyers wouldn’t have sold his personal journals.”

  Daisy sighed. “I guess you’re right, but it’s a shame that this one stops just before the robbery. Oh well, I was expecting better things for all the trouble we had getting it!” She looked at the kitchen clock. “Crap, I had no idea how late it is. We’d better hit the sack.”

  “Daisy, really. The English language is so full of wonderful words and all you can come up with is manure.”

  “Sorry Mother. I’m tired. I’ll try to be more imaginative in future.” She kissed her mother on the head and said, “Night all.”

  Chapter Twelve

  They were sitting around the breakfast table reading the newspaper over cereal and tea when Angela said, “I’m off to visit Marc soon, but I have completely run out of interesting conversation. I can hardly tell him about our nightly exploits. At least, not with nurses all around. So I thought I might read to him. What do you think he’d like?”

  “Here you go.” Daisy got up and handed her a book that was sitting on the table. “A collection of all the Lord Peter Wimsey short stories. I know he likes them. Good idea, Mother.”

  “I’m happy to do it. You girls don’t have time to sit with him and I really think he needs to hear a friendly voice. What are you two planning for today? Any more, what shall we say, maneuvers?”

  “Lord no,” said Rose. “But I am going to see if I can find time to research this Audrey Milstead person. I’m just fascinated by the whole stalking thing. I don’t know why. I
just think that she might be important.”

  “What do you mean, important?” asked Angela.

  “I don’t know, really. Just a feeling that maybe she’s somehow involved with all whatever this is that’s been going on.”

  Daisy looked up from the newspaper and said, “I thought you were going to help me deliver invitations to our little get together on Friday.”

  “I am. I printed them out late Monday night and they’re all ready to go. I’ll take the park side of the bridge, if you take this side.”

  “Good. It’ll give me plenty of time at Hazel’s and Mary’s. They open at ten on Wednesdays, don’t they?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Well, I want to see if either of them has anything to say about last night. I mean, I want to see if they act suspiciously or anything.”

  “What are you going to say? By the way when we were breaking into your attic last night we noticed someone else coming in through the door. Just wanted to know who it was.”

  “We weren’t breaking. I keep telling you that. I don’t know what I’ll say, but I’ll think of something.”

  Angela was gathering her things. “Please be careful. I can’t believe either Hazel or Mary is involved in any of this, they’re much too nice. But someone is. Be cautious, please.” She gave Daisy a hug and picked up the Sayers’ book.

  Daisy and Rose set out to deliver the invitations. Rose walked across the bridge, past the post office and dropped into Picture Perfect. Chatting at each shop for a few minutes took longer than she had planned. Everyone wanted an update on Marc’s condition, the newest info on the murder investigation and to know what could they bring on Friday.

  It was getting late by the time she got back. Daisy had nearly finished. Only Hazel and Mary’s shops were left.

  “Wait a sec, Daisy,” called Rose catching up to her. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Good. I’m not as sure about this detecting thing as I sounded at home. Come right down to it, what am I going to say?”