by N. C. Lewis
"My, you look happy," I said.
"Indeed I am."
"Are you going to share the good news?"
Bob signaled over to the barista.
"Can you get Ollie whatever she wants, it's on me."
"Medium cappuccino," I called out.
The barista nodded his head, and we fell silent until the drink was on the table in front of us.
"It's just that," he said, his face beaming, "things are going so well between me and Millie now that—"
"Ollie," a voice boomed out interrupting Bob.
I turned to look toward the café entrance. It was Millie. She gave a little wave, ordered her drink, and hurried over to the table.
"Oh my gosh, Ollie!" she said, nodding at Bob and sitting down. "The mystery of Teddy Tumpin's death is now a murder mystery. The owner of the newspaper wants me to write another feature."
Just then the doorbell tinkled, and the assistant returned to the café. The barista stepped in front of the bar, placed his hands on his hips and tilted his mango-shaped head slightly so that his ears pointed in our direction. His carrot-shaped chin twitched as if tuning into some on scene signal.
Millie waved her arms with excitement. "Sources at the sheriff's department tell me Teddy had a large stash of performance-enhancing drugs in his vehicle."
I sat upright in my chair. "Performance-enhancing drugs?"
"Yes," Millie paused then added, "and way too much for his personal use."
"I've seen this type of thing before," Bob said. "A new drug-seller guy moves into an established territory and gets bumped off by the 'locals.'"
"That's absurd, this is Medlin Creek!" I said in almost a shout, then realized it might not be so absurd. "Do you think that's what happened?"
"It's an avenue of investigation the sheriff's department should pursue," replied Bob tugging at his dreadlocks.
"What a story!" cried Millie. "The hometown hero returns to bask in the glory of yesteryear and wrestle the distribution of illegal drugs away from the Hill Country mafia."
"That's a rather fanciful interpretation," said Bob with a grimace.
Millie ignored his objection. "If I can write the story, it might end up on the front page of the Austin American Statesman. 'The Mystery of Teddy Tumpin' is going to be my gravy train to a full-time position at the Medlin Creek Times."
"Oh Millie, better make sure you have all the facts before you jump on that headline," I said with a wry smile.
She waved a dismissive hand and turned to Bob. "I'm on the way to the town hall, wanna join me?"
Bob shook his head. "Got a client call in forty-five minutes, then it's back to Austin for a late business meeting. Let's go to dinner tomorrow evening at the Green Bar Grill and you can fill me in. Ollie want to join us?"
"Sure," I said, "as long as you bring a guest. You know what they say, 'two's company, threes a crowd.'"
"How about I invite Roger?" suggested Bob.
"No," I said a little too quickly. "Roger's busy with Crystal right now and the wedding."
"What about Peter Travis?" asked Millie. Peter was a member of the Speaker Circle, a group we were all part of. He often joined us at the Green Bar Grill or the College Arms pub after a meeting.
Bob shook his head. "Spoke with Peter yesterday, he is out of town this week. Don't worry, I'll bring someone." He folded his arms across his chest, a huge smile on his face.
"Okay," I said, although I couldn't read the glint in his eyes.
Bob rubbed his chin and glanced sideways at Millie. "I was about to tell Ollie about the puppets when you arrived, and our decision."
"Our decision?" said Millie with a sharpness to her voice. Bob didn't seem to notice. "Professor Purple and Madame Bleu have gone to stay with Judith Cutler."
"Visit," interjected Millie.
Again, Bob didn't seem to notice, but turned to explain.
"You know how most towns have a cat lady? In Medlin Creek it's Augustine Granger. She runs the animal shelter. Well, Judith Cutler is the puppet mistress of Johnson City. I met her during the homecoming parade. They say she has over a thousand marionettes in her ranch house and almost a hundred sock puppets. The lady even has a miniature walking, talking President Lyndon B. Johnson marionette. Professor Purple and Madame Bleu will be very happy in their new home."
Millie compressed her lips. "They're visiting with Judy for a day or so."
Bob let out a contented breath. "It's you and me now Millie, just the two of us—you and I."
But tears welled in Millie's sad eyes and she rose to her feet and spoke softly. "Only a day or so." The tears broke free and ran down her cheeks. She did not try to wipe them away but turned toward the door and again she spoke softly, "Got to go to the town hall now."
Bob didn't seem to notice.
My day was rapidly passing by and there were still class notes to prepare and student assignments to grade. Everything else would have to wait until later. It would keep.
"I'm looking forward to dinner with you and Millie tomorrow evening," I said, standing to my feet.
Bob looked up, his face full of joy and nodded. Humming under his breath, he turned to look out of the window onto Creek Street. The barista nodded as I walked by and out of the café.
Chapter 27
Back at Ealing Homestead, I spent the rest of the afternoon searching the internet for examples to include in my lecture classes. When the mechanical clock high on the mantelpiece struck six p.m., I got up, stretched, then wandered into the bedroom to pack my martial arts kit. I refilled Bodie's water bowl then headed out along the narrow dirt path through the little iron gate and into the Tahoe.
The dojo, a low-rise concrete and steel structure, is between a disused warehouse and a twenty-four-hour pizza parlor known as Don Andrews. I am a regular in both places.
Above the front door of the dojo in big, bright letters were the words Medlin Creek Martial Arts Academy. All Welcome. The children's class had just finished. They laughed, and jostled, and shouted as they tumbled out of the front door. Their parents hurried behind engaged in excited chatter and carrying small black bags which held their children's practice martial arts weapons.
Inside, the dojo was cool and bright. The whoosh of the fans circulated air around a large rectangular room. A black mat covered the gym floor, padded with a thick, soft material designed to absorb the impact of judo-style throws. Off to the side were changing rooms and offices.
Kidd Cole, the assistant instructor swept the mat and greeted the guests as they arrived. "Hey, Ollie, nice to see you. You're a little early today."
"Wanted to get here before the last-minute dash."
He leaned on the broom. "It's a shame about Teddy Tumpin, hard to believe he was murdered."
"I wonder if the sheriff's department has any suspects yet," I said.
"Doubt it," he said, shaking his head.
"Well right now it's a mystery."
Kidd rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes. "The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree."
"What tree?" interrupted a tall, lean man with a frizzy Afro and small, dark owl-like eyes.
"Hugh," I said, "we were just talking about the death of Teddy Tumpin." Hugh was a respiratory therapist at the Medlin Creek County Hospital and a longtime member of the dojo.
Hugh lowered his voice. "That's a difficult one. Teddy knew so many people. Where would you start?"
"His ex-girlfriend," said Julia Simmons joining the conversation. Julia was another longtime member of the dojo and worked for the Medlin Creek Independent School District as a student counselor. "Track down his ex-girlfriend and you won't be far from the murderer."
Hugh let out a cackle. "Which one? There were so many."
Everyone laughed.
"I wonder whether homecoming beauty queen, Mystic Crystal was one of his early ex-girlfriends," said Julia.
Hugh rubbed his chin. "I hear she predicted his demise down to the second. How could she know the details? Unless..."
There was an awkward silence.
Kidd Cole changed the subject.
"Tiger Lily is taking the class this evening. She teaches grappling skills at her dojo in Johnson City. The fun starts in ten minutes."
We hurried to the changing rooms to get ready for class.
The gong sounded. Students streamed out of the changing rooms and formed lines. Advanced students at the front and beginners at the back. I stood in the last line.
"Let's get our bodies warmed up," said Kidd. "Twenty-five jumping jacks and twenty-five laps."
As I panted to complete the final lap, dead last, Kidd glanced around.
"Where is Roger tonight?"
Roger was a regular at the dojo and usually led the warm-up stretches.
"With Crystal, preparing for the wedding," I replied.
Kidd nodded. "Julia can you lead the stretches."
Julia strode to the front of the class, bowed, and Kidd left the mat. "Tonight, we'll run through a series of yoga style poses," she said, settling into warrior stance.
Twenty minutes later the gong sounded and again we lined up in neat rows. Tiger Lily, dressed in a deep blue, rugged, Brazilian jiu-jitsu uniform walked onto the mat.
"It's an honor to be invited to teach at your wonderful school. Normally, I instruct students in grappling and ground fighting. But tonight, we will practice choke holds and how to escape from them."
Her eyes danced over the lines of students. "You," she said in an authoritative tone pointing at Hugh. "You will be the attacker. What is your name?"
"Hugh Pentecost," he said in an uncertain voice.
"Good," she said rubbing her hands. "Let's begin with a standing naked choke. Here is how to apply it."
Hugh turned to face us. Tiger crept up to him from behind. She snaked her right arm around his neck with the left arm around the back of the head securing the hold. Gradually, she applied pressure with her right arm. Hugh's eyes became puffy and he let out a gasp as his body went limp.
Tiger released her grip. Hugh staggered around, finally supporting himself on her. After several moments he appeared to regain his composure. Tiger gave him a quick hug of reassurance then turned toward us.
"That, ladies and gentlemen, is a standing choke hold," she said with an eager grin. "Partner up and practice."
After five minutes Tiger clapped her hands.
"Change partners. I want you to practice on all physical types—tall, short, fat, thin, male, and female."
She repeated the process every five minutes. After thirty minutes Tiger clapped her hands and said, "Okay ladies and gentlemen, I can see we have mastered the technique. In self-defense the very first rule is to not let the attacker get behind you. But let's say you messed up and they have you in a naked choke hold, what do you do?"
She nodded at Hugh. "I want you to apply the naked choke hold on me."
Hugh came forward eagerly. His eyes glinted and there was a hint of revenge in the forceful way he snaked his right arm around her neck. There was a brief intense struggle and Tiger's right hand grasped onto Hugh's left hand. Her left hand, palm open, pushed upwards on Hugh's left elbow. At the same time, she pushed back with her head and upper body. Next, she pivoted slightly to the right forcing Hugh's grip to slacken. Now, she pivoted fully underneath Hugh's rising elbow, and she was free.
"It is important to move in a coordinated manner for this technique to be effective," she said in a husky voice sucking in gulps of air. "Once you are free, either run or attack. Whichever option you choose, do it quickly while the attacker is off-balance."
Tiger sprung forward delivering a devastating volley of blows and kicks. Fortunately for Hugh, the strikes were simulated and little more than light slaps but we all got the message.
She turned to face us. "Ladies and gentlemen, give it a try."
Again, we paired up. It took several attempts before I got the feel for the technique, but even then, my movements were jerky and slow.
"Remember to practice on both sides," said Tiger. "Left-handed attackers are just as vicious as right-handed ones."
I changed partners several times, getting a little better with every attempt. Finally, I faced Hugh.
"If it works on you, it'll work on anyone," I said as he towered over me.
"Give it a try," he replied sneaking up to me from behind. His thick right arm snaked around my neck. An instant of panic, then without thinking my body moved, I was free.
"Not bad," said Hugh smiling. "Not bad at all. But remember to either run or pounce."
"I'll run," I replied.
The gong sounded.
We lined up in neat rows and bowed. Another class at the Medlin Creek Martial Arts Academy was over.
◆◆◆
Back at Ealing Homestead I played with Bodie, refilled his water and food bowls and sat down with a glass of milk at the kitchen table. Something was nagging at the back of my mind, something Crystal had said. I couldn't recall what it was but I knew it was important. "It will come to me in a while," I said.
Then another thought struck me, if Julia Simmons was correct, Teddy and Crystal were once an item. Did he jilt her? Did she hold a grudge for over forty years that somehow boiled over in the homecoming parade? Was she still in love with Teddy? That one made little sense. If she loves Teddy why is she pushing so hard to marry Roger?
I took a hot shower, slipped into a nightshirt and slid into bed. I swallowed a pill and turned out the light, but my mind kept churning. I had a lot of questions and no answers. It was after midnight when I finally fell asleep.
Chapter 28
The next morning, I woke up late and my body ached. My subconscious mind had worked all night on the problem of Roger and Crystal, the death of Teddy Tumpin, and my financial troubles. If it had answers though, it wasn't sharing them with my conscious mind.
I slid out of bed, slipped into a robe, and wandered to the kitchen to make a cup of chamomile tea. As I sipped the steaming, hot beverage, Bodie came in prancing and panting to get my attention. "Okay, okay, your breakfast is on the way," I said, tugging gently on his ears. He rolled over for a belly rub.
After Bodie gobbled down his food, I opened the front door and off he bounded along the dirt path through the little iron gate toward the outbuildings.
I poured another cup of chamomile tea, took a sip and sighed. I was beginning to relax into the morning.
The cell phone rang.
Instinctively I picked it up without checking the incoming number.
"Ollie, what on earth is going on?" screeched an angry high-pitched voice. I checked the cell phone screen—Theodora Simon.
"Why didn't you tell me Roger's wedding has been moved forward to this Monday?"
Oh crap! I had forgotten to speak with her about that and about not having Roger's wedding at Ealing Homestead. I hadn't told Roger either. Oh crap!
"For goodness’ sake, Ollie," she said in a pained voice, "it's Thursday morning; Roger's wedding is next Monday!"
"Theodora it's just that—"
Theodora wasn't listening but talking. "Ollie, I've contacted all the vendors, and I expect a few will give me a hard time. What about the guests? For now, I'm working off one hundred and fifty. Have you seen the guest list yet?"
"Roger is still working on it, I believe," I said, trying to sound calm although my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might break through my chest.
Theodora's voice went up an octave. "Are you kidding me?"
"Okay, okay," I said trying to calm the situation. "I'll go over there tonight."
But she had hung up.
Oh crap!
I'd have to break the news about Ealing Homestead to Roger first, then follow up with Theodora. Into the office I hurried and added visit Roger and call Theodora to my list. I didn't like the way the day was shaping up. "Wish I could go back to bed and wake up tomorrow," I muttered, taking a sip of tea.
It was cold.
Chapter 29
The c
lock high on the mantelpiece struck the top of the hour. I got up and stretched then looked out of the window. It was a cloudy, gray day, so you had to keep one eye on the heavens to prepare for a cloudburst. My cell phone rang.
"Fire! Fire!" yelled a vaguely familiar voice.
"What?" I said.
"Ollie, it's Mr. Maxwell. I've got a question for you."
Mr. Maxwell had the whitest teeth I've ever seen. But they didn't appear odd, set off against his tangerine-tanned skin. At one time he ran an event center. I had taken his Get Paid for Your Event Center by Next Week course several months earlier. As a bonus to his students he'd thrown in a Maximum Dollar—Minimum Stress monthly life coaching call, which was often a sales pitch for his latest moneymaking venture.
"Oh, Mr. Maxwell, I don't have our coaching call scheduled for today." I flipped through my planner. "Nope, nothing for today."
"This call comes at absolutely no extra cost to you Ollie. It's simply a value-added service I offer to my clients. Now let me ask you a question."
"Go ahead," I said tapping my fingers on the desk.
"Wouldn't you agree, the cost of running a business is high?"
"Yes."
"And I'm sure, you'd like to save money as well as spend it, am I right?"
"Yes."
"Would you like to know how you can save more and spend less?"
"Yes," I said again.
"Here's the question," he said, then added, "I want you to respond honestly with the first answer that comes to your mind."
Mr. Maxwell paused for a moment as if composing his thoughts. Then he began in a singsong pitch common among used car salesmen.
"Fire was once thought to be one of the fundamental elements. Did you know it cleanses and purifies?" He lowered his voice and with an ominous tone continued. "But it can also devastate and destroy. Imagine for a moment, Ollie, that Ealing Homestead burned to the ground. What would you do?"
That surprised me. The premiums on my existing policy were already past due. A sour feeling flooded my stomach as I admitted to myself that with unpaid premiums I'd have to take the financial hit. But it would be a knockout blow. Perspiration formed on my forehead, and my hands were cold and clammy.