Art bent down to study it. “I wonder why the killer didn’t do that in the first place. It’s a better hiding place than in the drawer with the decorations.”
DeeDee asked him to pull the next drawer all the way out too. Then she bent down to peer under the stage. “Well, look at you!” Doc said, surprised. “You’re squatting down like a young thing. Guess your sciatica isn’t bothering you now!”
“Oh, ya know how it jest comes an’ goes. I’m doin’ okay right now,” DeeDee said. “Please pull out some more drawers so I can see better.” She tugged at her slacks to loosen them around the knee; then she duck-walked under the stage. In another minute she spotted something and yelled out to the others, “Bingo! There’s a shoe under here, an’ it’s a woman’s shoe, fer sure! It’s jest back here behind Drawer #9. I’d say this is a very strange place ta find a woman’s shoe!” The space under the stage wasn’t high enough for her to stand up; so she waddled over to pick it up, then wiggled back out and thankfully stood up straight and stretched. DeeDee held up a woman’s blue denim sneaker.
Annie shouted, “Bingo, yourself, DeeDee. You’ve hit the jackpot! I’d swear that that sneaker matches the denim jeans that body was wearing when I saw it. I remember thinking that it was the same shade of light blue as the denim jumper I was wearing last night.”
The four friends agreed that under the stage was a very unusual place to find a shoe. And the fact that it matched the body’s jeans made it even more interesting.
“Where do ya suppose is the matching shoe?” DeeDee asked.
Annie had a pretty good idea where its mate was, she said, “I’ll bet that when we find the body that there will be a light blue denim shoe on its left foot.”
DeeDee said, “That sounds right ta me.” Then she hurried to the kitchen for more aluminum foil to wrap it up. “Got to protect any fingerprints.”
“I think we’re done here. Come on to the kitchen,” said Doc. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” they all agreed.
* * *
Wednesday, 6 A.M.
As he filled the coffee pot, Doc mused, “Who do you suppose it belongs to?”
“Are ya talkin’ about tha shoe?” DeeDee asked him. When he nodded his head in agreement, she laughed. “I think it’s a pretty easy thing ta assume that tha shoe belongs ta tha dead body.”
Doc realized that his question didn’t sound too bright. “I guess what I really meant,” he covered, “is who was the woman who lost her shoe under the stage?”
“Now that is a very good question,” DeeDee said.
“I haven’t heard or read about anyone or anybody that’s missing, have you?” asked Art.
“If there was anyone missin’, we’d have heard. News like that’d fly ‘round BradLee faster than a kite!” DeeDee exclaimed. “’Course it jest happened yesterday, an’ it’s only six a.m. now. Maybe we’ll find out more at Coffee.”
Annie wondered aloud, “If the deputies didn’t find the body when they were here, why didn’t the murderer just leave her where she was when he moved it the first time? It was in a good hiding place, good enough that those deputies didn’t find it!”
“Well, probably because inside this warm buildin’ a dead body would start ta smell ‘fore long,” offered DeeDee.
“Oh, that’s right. We talked about that all ready,” Annie conceded.
“And I think he didn’t want anyone to find the body,” said Art. “You know, if there’s no body, it’s hard to prove there’s a crime.”
“That’s been my problem from the beginning of ‘Our Mystery,” Annie moaned.
Doc continued Art’s reasoning, “You’re probably right! And if the murderer didn’t want anyone to find the body, he had to get it out of the building before it started to smell.”
“What a horrible thought,” DeeDee said, shaking her head. Her shoulder-length hair swung from side to side. There was not a strand of gray in it. Her shiny black hair was the envy of all the gray and white–haired senior women. DeeDee swore that she never colored it—that she inherited her good hair genes from a Cherokee grandmother.
Doc hitched up his denim jeans. DeeDee’s right; this is all pretty horrible.” Then he said, “Here’s a thought: Who closes up after Bingo?”
“We all know that Karl Kreeger’s head of Bingo,” stated Art, “but Jiggs helps him a lot and so does Oliver.”
“Herb is in charge of tha kitchen,” volunteered DeeDee, “an’ tha Ellsburgh brothers are Call Back Runners like Jiggs. They’re awful good ta help.”
Art acknowledged that there were so many Bingo volunteers that it would be very difficult to sort things out. They needed to narrow it down. “Let’s try to figure out who might have been the last ones out; who closed up?”
Doc offered, “Security locks up the clubhouse around 11 p.m. I have a key because I sometimes need to get into the kitchen early, but I don’t know who else has keys.”
DeeDee asked, “Who takes care of all that money at tha end of tha evenin’? I’d have ta suppose it’s Karl, wouldn’t ya? That’s an awful lot a money fer jest one person ta have ta carry home alone! Maybe they lock it up an’ leave it in that Bingo supply closet over night.” She walked toward the door set in the wall near the east corner of the hall and jiggled the handle. “It’s locked,” she called back. “Karl always keeps it locked. I’ve never even seen inside of that little room. Have you?”
The friends looked helplessly from one to another; no one knew where the money was taken after Bingo was over each Tuesday night. They just knew that thousands of dollars were turned over to the Board’s treasurer each month from Bingo profits. Karl would present a big check at each monthly general meeting, and all would applaud him in appreciation. These funds paid a lot of the park’s expenses and kept the dues very low for the owners. BradLee was an extremely economical place to live for the quality of life available to residents.
Doc raised his eyebrows, “Money. That’s always a good motive for murder!”
“But surely, not in BradLee!” DeeDee protested. “Not here in our lovely park!”
A new thought popped into Annie’s head, and without thinking, she asked, “Who’s Karl’s new assistant? Barb told me that Brad told her that the Board just appointed someone to help him, but she didn’t know who it was going to be.”
“I didn’t know that!” Doc said with surprise.
“Me neither,” said DeeDee.
Art shook his head; this was news to him, too.
Annie said, “Oh, dear!” and rubbed her temple. “That was a secret; I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Barb told it to me on the Q.T.,” Annie admitted. “Here’s the scoop, but you have to promise not to let this go any further. Please do better than I just did about keeping a secret. But maybe it will help if you know what’s going on. Here’s what she told me: Karl’s been running our Bingo for at least five years, as you know. It’s a big responsibility, and it takes a lot of work and time and energy. Besides that, it goes on all summer long. No break. It’s every Tuesday night, year round.”
“I always got the impression that Karl liked running it alone,” stated Art.
“I think he does, too,” Annie agreed, “but, Barb said, that Brad said, that the Board wondered if maybe—they haven’t proven it—but they are wondering if Karl isn’t skimming off some of the Bingo money. He doesn’t keep a record of the expenses that it takes to run Bingo. He could easily pocket fifty or even a hundred dollars every week, and we’d never know it.”
“That’s true,” her husband agreed. “Everybody’s just so happy to get all the funds we do from Bingo that no one questions anything.”
“Well, I guess they’re asking questions now,” Annie said. “The Board felt they should appoint an assistant, that it was time for someone qualified to keep regular books, to make Bingo more business-like.”
“That seems like a good idea,” Doc commented. “Karl just kind of runs Bingo out of his hip pocket. Not
much bookkeeping done.
DeeDee broke in, “Oh, I think I know who it is!”
“Know who is?” queried her husband.
“Tha new assistant. I think I’ve figured out who tha new assistant is! Well, I can’t tell ya her name right off, but I know it’s a woman. I was surprised they picked a woman instead of a man for tha job. It’s gonna take a strong-willed person ta stand up ta Karl.” DeeDee paused, “Remember, Annie, there was a new woman introduced at Hobby Club. Now wait jest a minute; I do know her name. It’s on tha tip of my tongue, an’ it starts with a ‘T.’ Anyway, she’s kinda new in tha park. She’s got reddish hair, an’ she wears it long, least it’s down over her ears and turns under. We used ta call that style ‘page boy’.”
“I know who you’re describing, DeeDee,” Annie chimed in. “I heard she was a CPA; had a big job with some corporation before retiring. Wait, I’ve got it. It’s Twila. Twila Something. She’s a widow. Bought a place on Oneida Street, and she’s from Michigan.”
“Oh, not more from Michigan!” exclaimed DeeDee. “Ya know how many we have already from Michigan in our park? They always make sech a fuss at Coffee Hour when they announce someone’s moved here from Michigan. Those Michiganders jest clap an’ hoot an’ holler an’ celebrate like somethin’ real important jest happened!”
Annie added, “Well, it’s all in good fun. And you know that the New York State people are just as bad. Those two states have the most people in BradLee.”
DeeDee agreed it was friendly rivalry, then added, “There’s nearly as many here from Maine—all those dear Mainiacs! Like our dear Von and Verna.”
“For gosh sakes,” interrupted Art, “You women can give a complete description of a person, but you can’t remember her full name!”
“Well, can you?” Annie challenged him, playfully.
He just shook his head and smiled, “No. But then, I don’t know anything about her in the first place.”
Doc, who loved to sing, started chanting his own made-up words to a familiar tune: “I can’t remember who … .”
The four friends put their coffee cups in the deep kitchen sink. Annie washed them and put them in the dish drainer. As they were shrugging back into their jackets getting ready to leave, she thanked them, “You don’t know how much I appreciate your helping me this morning. We haven’t solved the mystery, but maybe we’ve solved a little piece of it. It’s a dilemma—a real dilemma!”
Art was concerned, “You’re right, it is a dilemma, and we aren’t going to get any help from the Sheriff’s office until someone is reported missing. But, in the meantime, Annie could be in real danger; especially if it gets out that we found that shoe.”
“But, Honey, we don’t have any proof that the shoe came from the dead body.”
“That’s true,” he admitted, “but I think we should keep this just among our gang, at least until we get more proof.”
“That makes sense to me,” Doc said. “It will be safer for Annie. We’d better not tell anyone; not a word to anyone. If we do, word will be around the park in no time. Mum’s the word!”
Annie held up the two packets wrapped in aluminum foil, “We’ve got this shoe and the tissue with lipstick on it as proof of … of something. Do you suppose it will do any good to take these to the deputies?”
DeeDee wrinkled her nose, “I don’t think it’d do one bit a good, at least not jest yet. We jest don’t have enough evidence. Do we?”
Annie shrugged, “Probably not, but I suppose I should call the sergeant. Anyhow, I’ll keep the stuff, just in case.”
“Where will ya put ‘em?” DeeDee wanted to know.
“I haven’t thought about it,” Annie answered her friend. “I suppose I’ll just put them in a drawer at home.”
“Maybe it would be better if ya didn’t take them ta your house,” DeeDee said.
Doc seconded his wife, “Just to be safe, why don’t you let me lock them in the freezer?”
“Aren’t we getting a little hyper?” Annie queried.
“Maybe so, but Annie, let’s not take any chances,” Art said. “Here, Doc, put them in the freezer.” Art pushed the two aluminum foil packets towards his friend.
He put them in a zip-lock plastic bag, pasted a label on the package and wrote on it, ‘Doc Davis’. After he put it safely in the freezer, he asked, “What do we do next?”
The others looked at each other and shook their heads helplessly. Then Annie stopped and said, “Yes, I do know what we should do. Bow your heads with me; I’ll send up a sentence prayer: Dear Lord, it’s Annie down here with my husband and friends. We are asking for your help. We have a serious problem on our hands, and we need all the help we can get. Please guide us and take care of us. Amen for now.”
DeeDee thanked her for the prayer, then asked, “Annie when you get home, are ya goin’ call that Sgt. Menendez?”
“I don’t know if it’s worth the bother or not.”
Art advised his wife, “I think you should keep her abreast of any information on the case. You never know when a piece of the puzzle is important.”
“I suppose you’re right, Art. I’ll call her. She’ll probably be polite, but she’ll most likely think I’m just a rattled old lady in her dotage when I tell her that our evidence is a used tissue and a blue denim sneaker!”
* * *
Wednesday Morning, 8:30 A.M.
After showering and dressing for Coffee Hour, Annie opened a cupboard and took out two coffee mugs to take with them. She poured some milk into a tiny Tupperware container and snapped the lid on tight. They preferred real milk to the powdered stuff that was provided at the clubhouse. She put the mugs and milk into the two cup tote that she had made at Hobby Club. Using green and white yarn, BradLee’s colors, she needlepointed the plastic canvas, working their names into the design.
Carrying the little tote, she climbed into the golf cart beside her husband for the drive back to Old Main, Art yawned and commented, “Annie, you got me up so early; I’m really hungry now. I could eat two—maybe three—doughnuts this morning.”
“You deserve it, Honey, and as thin as you are, you just go ahead and enjoy. I wish I could too, but I don’t dare.” Annie wasn’t really overweight, but she was constantly telling herself, “No,” to sweets. “You know that old adage: A moment on the lips; forever on the hips!”
Art grimaced. Annie was always spouting old sayings, but he really didn’t mind as much as he pretended he did. They left their comfortably cluttered doublewide home just before 8:30 a.m., but the clubhouse was nearly full by the time they arrived for the morning social. Coffee Hour didn’t begin until nine o’clock, but Annie had quickly learned, after moving to Florida, that seniors liked to arrive early; then they leave the minute a program is over—no lingering, no visiting afterwards. Here, the seniors laughed it off, calling it “BradLee Time.” Actually, if you arrived right on time, you were already late!
As they were walking to the front door of Old Main, Annie introduced herself to a couple. After the man and woman moved on, Art asked his wife, “How did you know they were new in BradLee?”
Annie laughed, “Oh, that was easy. First, of course, was that I’d never seen them before, and the second thing was that she was carrying a purse, a big purse.”
“What did her carrying a purse have to do with her being new to BradLee?”
“Look around. Do you see any of us women carrying a pocketbook?”
Her husband scanned the hall, “Well, most of the women are sitting down. I can’t tell if they have a pocketbook or not.”
“Well, I can tell you,” Annie smiled. “they don’t. We don’t bother with a purse in the park. We only carry them when we’re going shopping outside the park.”
“Oh,” was all Art could think to say as he digested this bit of female logic.
* * *
The gang had saved seats for Art and Annie at the end of the table in the row that ran along the far right wall in front of the Bingo closet. Barb c
ornered Annie before she even sat down, “You’ve got to tell me everything that happened this morning. Doc tells me I missed all the excitement!”
“And I missed out too,” lamented Brad. He loved Barb’s friends and was happy that when he married Barb, he also became a part of her ‘gang’. He didn’t want to be left out of anything they did.
“We want to know more, too,” Von said. “Verna and I weren’t there either.”
Annie quieted them, saying, “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about all this here. Others might hear, and I’d just as soon keep it among us for awhile until I feel a lot safer.”
“Oh, we’ve been whispering; so the next table can’t hear us,” Barb reassured her. “And, don’t worry, we’re not saying anything to anybody else. We don’t want anything to happen to you. You’re much too precious to us,” she said, giving Annie a hug.
“I’d still feel better if we talk about it later,” Annie insisted as she smoothed her long jumper over her knees.
“We can do that,” Barb replied. Then she said, “Look, Brad, your dad is coming in.”
Her husband twisted in his chair, saw his father at the door of Old Main and jumped up to go and greet him. “Want to sit with us, Dad? We can squeeze in another chair for you.”
As father and son walked over to the gang’s table, Mr. B declined, “No, I’ll be sitting over there with the ROMANS.”
DeeDee knew the ROMANS were Mr. B’s buddies in the park, but she asked, “Will ya tell me again what those letters stand fer?”
Mr. B chuckled, “Retired Old Men At Ninety Some.
“Is Mom okay?” Brad asked.
“She’s pretty good, but she didn’t feel like coming out on a cold morning. She’d rather stay home when her uncomfortable friend, Arthur Itis, is visiting.”
The Traveling Corpse Page 5